Trouble in Paradise

by Jennifer Greene

  “No. Griff, I couldn’t be less hungry.” Was he insane? The last thing on either of their minds was food.

  “You didn’t eat much at breakfast, I’m guessing…” Griff started piling food on top of his desk. “A cheese sandwich?”

  Her stomach turned a somersault. “God, no!”

  Still on his haunches, he swiveled around to look at her. All that lethal fire in his eyes was suddenly tempered by a sudden quirk of a smile. “So your problem is going to be cheese, is it?”

  “Griff…”

  “Sit down, Susan. We’re going to have a hell of a fight. We might as well eat first.”

  He might have been saying that tonight there would be a ten percent chance of rain; his tone of voice was that conversational. She slumped down on the couch, bewildered, exhausted and increasingly angry. He handed her a small carton of milk, then two slabs of French bread with peanut butter in the middle, then an apple. He took a slice of cheese for himself and sat back behind his desk, calmly watching her eat.

  She really didn’t intend to eat a bite. She had a terror of being sick to her stomach and dizzy again, and yet eating bought her a measure of time. His children were small guns, but they’d been effective enough. She wasn’t ready for the barrage he was about to hit her with. She wanted just what she had asked him for. Time. Privacy. Just because she was a wife and stepmother didn’t mean she didn’t have a right to those things.

  She wiped her hands on a napkin, settled back in a corner of the leather couch and stared at him. “Griff, have I done anything so terrible?” she demanded finally, since he refused to break his silence. “Everyone has to have a little time to herself—”

  “Occasionally, yes, and you need more privacy than most people do. But not today, Susan. If I let you spend a few more hours alone today, you’ll worry yourself inside out. You’ll wall all your doubts up inside you, and I’ll never hear a word about what’s troubling you. Now, talk, Susan. Let’s hear it.”

  She shook her head. “Taking off in the middle of the night was stupid—you don’t have to tell me that. I didn’t mean to cause such a rumpus. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “Be honest, Susan,” he demanded. “What’s troubling you, really?”

  She glared at him, “I want to be alone!”

  “Take one step toward that door and see what happens,” he suggested, but his voice was curiously gentle.

  Which didn’t make sense. “Griff. I can’t explain…”

  “Try, honey.”

  The gentleness in his voice threatened to produce tears in her eyes, but she fought them with her anger. She leaped to her feet. “Look. I never have any time alone with you. I need time with you. I love you, and I need to just be with you. Alone. Suddenly, we can only make love when the lights are out and we’re both too tired. Suddenly, when I’ve got a thousand things to tell you, I have to save them all up for the minute and a half when I can catch you, and I end up never saying them at all. You think I don’t love the children, Griff? Well, you’re dead wrong. But I want more than just to be a mother for your kids!”

  Griff was around the desk before she could finish, his shoulders rippling and a fiery gleam in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me they were giving you trouble? Why couldn’t you come to me about Barbara’s party? They were creating a little hell for you, and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it! They were damned happy being waited on hand and foot. Tiger’s under the impression you want a houseful of animals, and Tom thinks you love rock music turned up full blast. Why didn’t you tell me what the devil was going on?”

  “Nothing was going on!”

  “You thought I expected you to put up with their nonsense,” he growled. “That’s what kills me, Susan.”

  She hesitated, unable to bear his fury any longer. She looked down at the carpet with miserable, doe-soft eyes, her heart still beating like a tom-tom. “You could have seen—”

  “I would have seen,” he corrected. “In very short order. I didn’t plan on having all three kids descend on us at the same time I had two weeks of crisis here at work—but long before that, you were having trouble with the children, Susan, and you never said one word. You were all smiles whenever I asked you—”

  “You asked me about Barbara,” she cut him off defensively. “But I couldn’t break trust with her by running to you like a tattletale, Griff. I was having a hard enough time—”

  “So I’m just beginning to understand—but this has nothing to do with Barbara. Or the other two children. It has to do with trust, between you and me—and you should have come to me. The kids adore you, Susan, but I knew that would happen before they even laid eyes on you. Sure, that mattered to me, but if you think I married you to provide a mother for the kids, you’re out of your mind. I married you solely because I love you so much it hurts, and in the relationship I thought we had, it’s understood that we turn to each other when one of us gets into deep water.”

  Lord, he exhausted her. Everything seemed so simple when he said it. Nothing had been that simple when it was happening. The kids did care; they were on her side. They’d told her so very clearly this morning, but it had not seemed so obvious living with them day by day. And that Griff was willing to back her up when she felt herself floundering had seemed even less obvious.

  “Griff,” she started unhappily, and stopped. She sighed. “I hear you. And I think it’s past time I confessed I did fall into deep water, and that frightens the devil out of me…”

  He slowly exhaled the last of his anger in one long breath. He was there suddenly, cradling her to himself, sinking into the leather couch with her on his lap. “And you damn well better believe we can get you out of it. Together,” he whispered. His hand stroked her hair, urging her cheek to his shoulder. “The kids have obviously been working very hard to show you their worst side. And we’ve had trial after trial thrown at us in these first months when what we both wanted most was just to be alone together, and that wasn’t fair, love. Some of the problems will be very easy to solve. We’ll hire extra help for you, both at work and at home. The kids—all I had to do was point out to them that they had made you unhappy. I know you’ll see some drastic changes in their attitudes. The house is all but done, and I can delegate a great deal of work here at the office to allow me to be home more…”

  She looked up at him. “Such a tough group you all are,” she murmured wryly. “Just like that book. The four of you getting so very tough with me this morning…showing your love. I do believe the principle is finally managing to sink in—but it was hard, Griff. I wanted to be perfect for you. I didn’t want you to know I was having trouble handling anything. I was so unhappy at the thought of disappointing you.”

  “That was never possible.” His lips softly rubbed a message on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. “The kids need a lot of attention right now, Susan, but giving love also means setting limits—for them and for us. I need time with you. I need privacy with you…and I’m going to get those things, just as you have the right to stand up for what you want and need. Life’s far too short, love, and I had to live far too many years without you. I’m not saying there won’t be upheavals from time to time. There will, of course, but I promise that, no matter what happens, I won’t lose sight of you and your needs, Susan. I love you far, far too much…”

  He wasn’t alone in those feelings. Susan sighed, relaxing. She knew he would keep his promises, because he was that kind of man, but it was more than that. It was that he understood; that he wanted and needed the same things she did. She curled her body to fit the contours of his, winding her arms around his neck as his mouth settled on hers, slow and hard.

  “You want the baby?” she whispered against him.

  “You mean the one with the big gray eyes and silky dark hair who’s going to throw us all into chaos again in a few months?”

  Susan smiled, closing her eyes. “I think,” she said absently, “that must be the one.”

  “I think,” Griff sai
d just as absently, “that there isn’t anything I could possibly want more than I want your baby.”

  Her fingertips slowly traced the line of his jaw. “You only think so?”

  “I know so. And don’t start worrying, Susan. Keep in mind that we have a few live-in babysitters, that I can whip up a mean lasagna and that once upon a time I could change a diaper faster than the speed of sound. Furthermore, I’m an expert on colic. Did you know that?”

  “I never did,” she said gravely.

  “Just maybe there are a few other things you don’t know.” He shifted her again, and she suddenly found herself lying flat on the cushions staring up into Griff’s eyes. Devil eyes. There was a slash of a smile on his lips. “For one thing, pregnant fathers need a lot of rest.”

  “Pregnant…” She chuckled. Rest was the last thing his eyes were suggesting. “Griff,” she whispered, “you know darn well this couch is too narrow.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  They did.

  About the Author

  Jennifer sold her first book in 1980, and since then she has sold more than eighty books in the contemporary romance genre. Her first professional writing award came from RWA—a Silver Medallion in 1984—followed by more than twenty nominations and awards, including being honored in RWA’s Hall of Fame and presented with the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Jennifer has been on numerous bestseller lists, has written for Harlequin Books, Avon, Berkley and Dell, and has sold over the world in more than twenty languages. She has written under a number of pseudonyms, most recognizably Jennifer Greene, but also Jeanne Grant and Jessica Massey.

  She was born in Michigan, started writing in high school, and graduated from Michigan State University with a degree in English and psychology. The university honored her with their “Lantern Night Award,” a tradition developed to honor fifty outstanding women graduates each year. Exploring issues and concerns for women today is what first motivated her to write, and she has long been an enthusiastic and active supporter of women’s fiction, which she believes is an “unbeatable way to reach out and support other women.” Jennifer lives in the country around Benton Harbor, Michigan, with her husband, Lar.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4268-9097-0

  First published by Berkley Publishing Group in 1984

  Copyright © 1984 by Alison Hart

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