Love's Own Reward

by Dana Ransom

  The boy glanced nervously toward the door. “Is Robert here?”

  “No, he’s not. Something I can do for you?”

  The boy’s composure dissolved upon a trembly sob, and Jess was immediately all awkward compassion. He caught one of the thin wrists and gave a compelling tug. “C’mere, kid.” He supplied a shoulder and a bracing hug. “What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Man, oh, man, how the hell do you answer that one? Jess’s arms tightened fiercely about the quaking little figure. A kid this age shouldn’t be taking about such things. He opened his mouth, meaning to issue some soothing spiel, but the words wouldn’t come. The boy’s pain was too real to be pushed aside with placating sympathy. He squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled, “Yeah, well, neither do I, kid. But then we don’t have much to say about it, do we?”

  Jess could feel the boy wiping his face on the shoulder of his quilted jacket. His chest plugged up solid at the sound of the fragile voice. “I guess not.”

  “Casey.”

  The boy pulled away from Jess in response to Robert’s firm intrusion.

  “Shelly’s waiting for you down at the dock. Tell her I said you could help her row. I’ll come by later on, and we’ll take a walk. Okay?”

  The boy gave a jerky nod and the weakest smile Jess had ever seen before scurrying off toward the lake. He followed with his gaze, his expression naked, shattered.

  “You’re not going to fall to pieces on me, are you, Jess?”

  “I feel like I could very easily,” he admitted without a trace of shame. He exhaled a heavy breath and scrubbed unsteady hands over his face. “I didn’t know what to say to him.”

  “You did fine. Just fine. You didn’t lie to him. That’s the important thing. You never lie, and you never tell them everything’s going to work out. Because it won’t. He could very well live a normal life span but not a normal life. Tough stuff to face at that age, but he will.”

  “Tough stuff to face at this age. How do you deal with it, day after day?” Suddenly he remembered who he was speaking to and that Robert Carter had no other choice. But before he could apologize, Robert dropped down beside him on the step and slapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s like walking a high wire. You’re all right as long as you don’t look down.”

  “I feel like I just took one hell of a fall.”

  “Then pick yourself back up. You’re all right, McMasters. You have a real instinct when it comes to knowing what someone needs.”

  “Yeah,” he drawled dryly. “I’m a real saint.”

  “Aren’t we all.” He pushed off Jess’s shoulder to stand. “Come on. I’ve got to get over to the dining hall, or they’ll mutiny and serve Oreos and Ding Dongs for the main course.”

  Casting a reluctant glance back at the house, Jess hopped up and fell in beside Charley’s brother.

  “The way I look at it, Jess, is that at least we know we’re not perfect. Unlike Alan the Almighty who, I’m sure, still believes in the Divine Right of Scientists.”

  Jess gave a rusty laugh, and Robert slid him a look.

  “How serious are you about Charley?”

  The question took Jess like a rabbit punch. He reeled and sidestepped. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” Robert mimicked. “Hell, man, what do you think I mean? Are you looking for the quick roll, or are you interested in the long run?”

  “You’re not much for tact, are you?”

  “No time for it. You didn’t answer.”

  “Serious,” he growled and started to walk again. His gait was stiff, as if he’d frostbitten his feet.

  “Good. Just wanted to hear you say it. She’s going to need someone, and I wanted to make sure you’d be there for her.”

  Jess dug in his heels. He didn’t like the ominous overtone at all. “What are you getting at, Robert?”

  The younger man faced him with a soul-gripping solemnness. “I might not be around forever, and I want to know she’ll be taken care of. Not financially. Emotionally.”

  “Where you planning to go?”

  He laughed. “That I won’t speculate on. Can you take it on the chin?”

  “Try me.”

  “We don’t know why some Type I diabetics deteriorate and some don’t. You can better your chances at having a normal life span by regimenting and regulating. Controlling blood pressure, calorie intake, meal timing and portions, and exercising all help but they don’t offer an ironclad guarantee. You can never take a wrong step, and it can hit you just like someone who never bothered with any precautions. I’m a time bomb, Jess. And I don’t know how long the fuse is. Charley’s convinced herself that I’m going to live forever, and I’m the last one in the world who’d want to disappoint her. But I might. You usually have about twenty years after onset, then everything goes to hell in a hurry—the kidneys, the eyesight, the nerve endings. It’s usually kidney failure that pulls the plug, but it can be something as simple as diabetic foot. A cut can take a year to heal because of poor circulation. There’s no sensation of pain. You can be walking around on raw sores until gangrene sets in, and the next thing you know, you’re losing pieces of yourself. Then there’s my personal favorite, impotence, which is why I intend to use it before I lose it. Pretty picture, huh?”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  Robert gave him a long scrutinizing look and saw the toughness in Jess McMasters. “I bet you have. Anyway, back to Charley. She’s been setting aside money for years in an account she doesn’t think I know about. Mom told me and I promised I wouldn’t say anything. When the eyesight starts to go, the blood vessels rupture. Laser treatments can arrest the damage, but they’re not cheap. Charley’s been building me this nest egg. She’s given up everything she’s ever wanted to do to take care of me, and dammit, Jess, I don’t like it one bit. But what am I supposed to tell her? To get a life? She’s never had one of her own, and she’s scared to death. That’s why she latched on to good ol’ Alan. She has some idea that he’s going to save me. Maybe he will, but I know one thing for sure. He’s not doing anything for her. And I don’t like that, either. Now that she has this big windfall, he’s going to suck her dry, and I like that even less. And I sure as hell don’t want to be accused of doing the same thing.”

  “And what do you expect me to do about all this?” Jess asked cautiously.

  “Nothing. I’m not asking you for anything. Just thought you ought to know.” And with that he walked away.

  Seven

  “FOOD EXCHANGES are food units that can be substituted for one another in your meal plan. There are six categories—starch and breads, meat and meat substitutes, vegetables, fruit, milk, and fats. Each item on your list has roughly the same carbohydrate, fat, protein, and calorie value, so you can trade them off to give your menu variety. Portion control will . . .”

  Charley let her monologue trail off as she caught sight of a girl in the first row of the several circles of chairs doodling aimlessly on a scrap of paper. A flash of temper flared. Irritation made her words sharp.

  “Karen, this is your life I’m talking about here. Think you could pay a little more attention?”

  The teenager’s big blue eyes jerked up, surprised then stricken by the harshness of the command. Charley let her frustrations out on a gusty breath. She came to smile down at the teenager and touched her fingertips to the girl’s flushed cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t know why I snapped at you. I’m not myself this evening for some reason.”

  “We know why,” snickered one of the older girls in back. “And he sure is cute!”

  That brought a host of giggles and a surge of color to Charley’s face. She made herself smile and adopt a casual impatience. “All right, ladies and gentlemen. We were discussing food groups, n
ot appetites of a baser nature. Can we get on with it, please?”

  The group settled down with a smattering of chuckles and whispers, and Charley picked up on her lecture. But Karen wasn’t the only one distracted from the topic of food-unit substitution. Charley’s mind wasn’t on measuring proteins. It was on finding an accurate means to measure the increasing chemical reaction between her and Jess McMasters. She was both relieved and reluctant when it came time to dismiss her group. Now she could think. But now she had no further excuse to avoid Jess.

  He’d been in an oddly restrained mood all evening, withdrawing behind a bland smile and limited conversation. Because of what she’d said? Or because of the night before? She wasn’t good at guessing games, and Jess was harder to read than most. His words troubled her, but it was his kiss that scattered all logic. Logic didn’t apply to Jess, and to a woman who relied on carefully plotted statistics before making any judgment, Charley was lost when it came to him. He appealed to something very different inside her, to emotions she’d shut off at an early age. Bringing them back to life was a frightening prospect. There were no known factors, no predictable outcomes. It was research in its rawest form, and while it scared her, the challenge was unbearable. She’d be experimenting with an intriguing set of controls. What would happen if those attractive constants were perturbed? If the chemically altering drug of passion was introduced? She owed it to the scientist in her soul to explore the possibilities. She owed it to the woman in her to take the risk.

  But how?

  Jess was unapproachable. How was she going to broach the subject with him? She was a pathetic flirt. An eight-year-old prepubescent knew more about stirring hormones than she did. She was equally uncomfortable with the idea of seduction. There was nothing in her meager wardrobe or in her reserved demeanor that would stimulate a man’s fantasies. What was she supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, “I want your body for research purposes”? “Kiss me so I can hypothesize about the effect of elevated blood pressure on the production of adrenal secretions”? How incredibly romantic. She knew science, not sexuality. She was out of her field and fumbling. Twice she’d turned down his overtures. How to communicate her change of mind?

  He didn’t make it easy.

  All evening he was a permanent fixture at her brother’s side. She couldn’t very well come on to him in front of Robert! More than likely he would burst out laughing at her unskilled attempts and ruin everything. But Robert wouldn’t be there to serve as a buffer forever. Sooner or later she and Jess would be alone in the cabin, and then she would make her move. Whatever that might be.

  She pictured it so clearly in her mind. She and Jess. Words weren’t necessary. A look would do it. She’d sway up against him, and he would be lost to desire. Her fingers would fly deftly over his shirt buttons, then revel in the texture of his bared chest. She’d thread through his unruly hair and whisper love words to drive him wild. That was the picture. The reality was much more cumbersome. Running fingers through his hair and managing shirt buttons was out of the question. She couldn’t do that with her own, let alone conquer his with any degree of grace or comfort with her hands bandaged. As for love words . . . she hadn’t the slightest idea. The only swaying she’d ever done was in her first pair of heels. She’d overcome that by switching to flats. Compromise for security’s sake, that was her motto. Not conducive to flinging herself boldly into Jess’s arms.

  Finally the moment came. Charley was a knotted mass of nerves. She wished Robert and Shelly a strained goodnight and followed Jess into the cabin. The glare of track lighting shocked everything into blunt focus, and Charley started cringing. She stood in the center of the room in stricken paralysis while Jess stacked and stoked a fire. She devoured him hungrily with her eyes as he crouched before the hearth. Excitement and sheer terror quickened a flutter of sensation around her heart. Like massive fibrillations, she thought wildly. Either she was crazy about the man or she should call in a cardiologist.

  He straightened in one smooth motion, and Charley suffered an acute anxiety attack. Now or never. She swallowed convulsively as he turned around. Oh, he was gorgeous! Her sensibilities staggered and collapsed. One look into his cool gray eyes and she lost the thread of her existence.

  “Jess . . .” The sound of his name was engulfed by a shaky breath. He couldn’t have heard it. Without any recognition of her distress, he crossed to the couch to plump up his pillow. Her frantic heart crowded up into her throat. She made herself try again, concentrating on those husky tones she’d heard on his messages.

  “Jess.” The word trembled with all the passion in her panicked soul.

  He gave her a quick, distracted look and said, “Oh. Good night, Charley.” Then he strode to the bathroom and shut the door.

  She came unglued. He hadn’t noticed. She heard the shower gush on full blast. What now? She could join him, came a salacious thought. One nervously dismissed. Her bandages would get soaked. The couch. She could stretch out on the couch and wait for him. That would be obvious, wouldn’t it? Too obvious? She snuck over to it and sat down. It gave with a welcoming sigh. Maybe she should just sit here and let him assume . . . No. She’d been too forceful in her rejection. She had to make the first move. Cautiously she sank down onto the cushions, her spine as rigid as a back brace. With her head on his pillow Charley closed her eyes and commanded her pulse to quiet. She would be in control.

  Then the water stopped, and she was off the couch and darting up the stairs to the loft before her mind registered a conscious decision. There she slunk back into the shadows and prayed for the miracle of calm thought. Over the hammering of her heartbeats she heard him leave the bathroom. Suddenly the room below was plunged into darkness through which the warm glow of the fire rose in a radiant arc. He was going to bed. If she crept quietly into hers, he would never know that she’d been plotting his seduction. She started toward it, eyeing the safety of its fluffy comforter. Then she stopped. She might save herself the risk of rejection, but she would never know the pleasures that lay beyond that kiss, either.

  She wouldn’t think about it. Or about the man on the couch below. Hanging desperately on to that decision, Charley maneuvered awkwardly out of her clothes and into an ankle-length flannel nightgown. Not exactly the sort of lingerie designed to turn a man’s thoughts to passion, she realized with some chagrin. But the more she tried to push herself toward the climb into bed and the search for sleep, the stronger became the draw to the loft’s rail. She paced restlessly for some minutes, each pass taking her closer and closer to the edge. Until finally she looked over.

  It was very dark below. Uneven firelight fell short of revealing his features but played about the bare feet he stretched toward the warmth. Those incredibly sexy bare toes. With a groan of reckless surrender she headed for the stairs.

  He was lying on his back with his forearm braced over his eyes so that only the top of his head and the sensuous curve of his mouth was showing. He’d changed into sweatpants and a loose T-shirt—no buttons, Charley thought giddily. Her senses were overwhelmed by the scent of soap and pine logs. Her knees were shaking so badly that it was with relief she bent them to crouch behind the back of the couch, resting her elbows on the tufted top. For a moment she studied him, absorbed by his masculine aura and aware of a needy urgency mounting as each second passed in silent survey. Her hand was trembling as her fingertips reached and lightly touched the back of his.

  “Jess.” It was a sigh of longing.

  Jess jerked into wakefulness and lowered his arm. “Charley?” Even in the shadows he could define the anxiousness tightening her features. Her eyes glittered softly. “What’s wrong, baby?” He sat up and her eyes seemed to swell to twice their size. He could see her frantic swallowing. “You okay? Another bad dream?”

  Charley shook her head. Bad dream? Hardly. Her every dream was more like it. But how to tell him? Her lips parted to say the words, I
want you, Jess, but the sound dammed up behind the thickness of emotion clogging her throat. She forced a painful swallow and tried again. I need you, Jess. The muscles in her face didn’t want to work. She couldn’t do this! With a small moan of frustration she began to stand.

  “Charley?” The concern knitting his brow shifted in confusion. “What is it?”

  And suddenly she couldn’t run from him anymore. She came back down, meeting his outstretched hand, rubbing her cheek into the cup of his palm. Her eyes slid shut as a sensual shudder escaped her. Her lips moved eagerly against his thumb as it softly sketched the curve of her mouth. A breathy sigh of relief drove understanding home. An understanding that shook Jess to the soul.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” His voice was low, rough with feeling.

  Charley ducked her head, trying to hide her hot face in the concave of his palm. “I’m not sure how to go about this, Jess,” she mumbled with a heart-clutching honesty.

  Tenderness welling in his chest until he could barely breathe, Jess stroked her heated cheek and murmured, “Haven’t you ever been with a man before?”

  She pulled out of his hand with an angry toss of her head. “Of course I have,” she snapped testily, as if by questioning her experience, he’d offered some terrible insult. Then annoyance gave way to embarrassment. “I’m just not very good at making love. About as good as I am in the kitchen.”

  He took her teary confession with a soft laugh, easing the sting of his humor by teasing his fingers through her hair. “Well, I’m good at it. And if you haven’t enjoyed it up till now, it’s because he was doing it wrong.”

  Jess followed that arrogant claim by catching her under the arms and dragging her over the top of the couch to lie fully upon him. His kiss was a potent taste of raw desire. Charley responded to it with a wild need to sample more. He reached up, framing her face in gentleness as his tongue slipped along the part of her lips like a whisper. When her breath expelled in a rapturous moan, he plunged deep to probe the moist recess of her mouth, plumbing the pathway to her unseasoned passions. When he’d mapped out every hard ridge and yielding valley, he withdrew and went on to seek new territories. He charted the sweet swell of her tender eyelids, the delicate plain of her cheeks, moving to ride the pounding rapids of want coursing down the arch of her slender throat. Exquisite sensation woke beneath his briefest touch, and to Charley, it was heaven.