by M. S. Parker
My heart lurched, then started to race, beating so hard I felt lightheaded.
“You yelled, sounded upset. I started to come inside, but when I looked in—you’d left the door open—you were staring in the mirror.” He gave me an apologetic look. “I truly wasn’t trying to pry, Miss Maya. I was simply concerned. Do you remember what day I’m talking about?”
I looked back at the notes in his hand. Although I couldn’t see the writing, I knew what was on them. My hands had been shaking when I'd done the math to confirm what a part of me had already known.
“Yes.”
Harrison nodded and folded the pages back up, offering them to me.
“You looked quite calm, even happy then, so I left. I had an idea as to what the circumstances were. I’d seen that look on my sister’s face when she found she was expecting,” he added. “That smile is something unique to a woman who realizes she’s going to have the baby of the man she loves.”
Slowly, I accepted the hand-written calendars. “You still haven’t explained why you think the baby is Glenn’s…?”
“I’ve seen how you are with him. Then…well…” He grimaced. “These walls are paper thin in some areas, Miss Maya. I heard certain things. I thought about the notes. I thought about how you look exactly the way you did three years ago. Not a thing has changed. I decided I could choose to believe you were disturbed…or I could choose to believe something unlikely. And I’ve witnessed some unlikely things myself.”
“Thank you.” It took forever to get those words out. Forever.
He rose then and came to pat me on the shoulder. Lingering a moment, he asked, “Now, does Mr. Jackson know that’s his baby?”
I nodded, blinking back tears.
“Well, alright then.” He squeezed my hand and left the room.
“You’re too quiet,” Glenn murmured, passing the tub of popcorn over to me.
“I’m just enjoying the movie.” I gave him a glib smile and stared at the scene as it played out on the screen in front of us. “I haven’t been to a drive-in since I was a kid. I forgot how much I loved them.”
“If you loved them, why haven’t you kept going?” He toyed with my hair, eyes on me instead of the screen.
“Kind of hard when you’re eight and your feet don’t reach the gas or the brake.” With a shrug, I grabbed a handful of popcorn and tried not to feel self-conscious as the scrutiny continued.
“So, you never went to one with your guy when you were in school?” he asked.
His hand slid down to my neck.
“I didn’t have a guy in high school. Not really.” With a quick look, I met his eyes. “I dated some, but my parents were pretty strict and the nearest drive-in was like an hour away.”
He’d been easing in closer, but now he pulled back. “I thought you said you grew up in Philadelphia.”
“I did.” The confusion on his face didn’t make sense—at first. Then I smiled, a little sad. “Drive-ins aren’t exactly a thing in…”
Now I felt self-conscious again, not wanting to say the year.
“They aren’t as big a thing in your time.” Glenn eased back, his eyes tracking to the screen again.
Inwardly, I braced.
He sensed something because his eyes came to mine. “What is it? Don’t tell me nothing, because I can tell it’s definitely something.” He lightened it with a smile, but I knew I couldn’t keep hedging, either.
“I…” Sighing, I reached for the lemonade he’d brought with him. I’d tried once to talk about the effects of caffeine and the like on babies, but I’d gotten an odd look, and decided just not to bother. Avoiding it didn’t hurt me, and it wasn’t like it was hard to find things like lemonade or Sprite and water. Wetting my throat, I took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. “It’s not that I’m not…happy, okay? But part of me is waiting for everything to fall apart again.”
“Why do you think things are going to fall apart again?” He reached up and cradled my cheek in his hand.
“Maybe because every time I’m almost happy, they do fall apart?” I shrugged. “I can’t help but think that it’s going to happen again.”
“You can’t live the rest of your life fearing the worst.” He pushed his hand into my hair and tugged gently until I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “That’s no way to live.”
“I know,” I whispered.
His mouth came down over mine for a soft kiss. “Listen, I can’t explain any of this, Maya.” The words were murmured against my lips. “But I know I love you.” He covered the swell of my belly with his hand. “When I do this, I feel something hot and possessive, something…mine. Just like you are. I believe in us, Maya. And I believe we’ll have a wonderful future together.”
Eighteen
Glenn
The wounded look in her eyes was still getting to me almost a week later.
Each day, it got a little better.
But things weren’t…right. They weren’t normal between us.
I hated it.
Even now, as she stood by watching as Florence slowly eased her weight up onto a pair of crutches—her face bright with hope—she was quieter. More somber.
I was tired of the distance I’d put between us. Tired of the pain I’d caused her.
Sure, I’d been hurt by everything that had happened, but it wasn’t like she’d intended to do it.
As she said something quietly to Florence, I looked down at the newspaper article I’d been carrying around with me for almost two weeks.
It was from the end of September and the paper was getting worn out.
It was proof of what she’d told me.
Hurricane Betsy Wreaks Havoc in Florida!
I’d believed her even before I’d read those words.
I hadn’t bothered trying to find out if her aunt had been among the deceased. I’d seen the grief in her eyes when she mentioned it. As days turned into weeks, I’d found myself thinking about what it would be like, knowing that somebody might die, and wondering whether I should do something.
But what would’ve happened if she had acted?
There were a hundred things that could’ve happened.
Maya had already said she’d stopped Florence from killing herself the first time she came back. Then she’d mentioned that when she'd been...back, Florence hadn’t been in an accident. Things had changed because of Maya. What happened if too many things changed?
It was a headache I didn’t want to think about, one that I wasn’t smart enough to handle.
Would I ever completely forgive myself for all the crap I’d put her through? From where I stood now, looking back, I could see the truth written on her face pretty damn clear.
It didn't matter that the truth seemed incomprehensible.
What mattered was that I should’ve trusted her.
Too much hurt had gotten in the way.
Maybe that was the problem now. Not for me, but for her. She was hurt and I had to somehow heal it.
Pondering an idea, I laid back flat on the bed and began to plan.
“Where's your cabin?” Maya sat on the bench in the smaller garden at Florence's estate. The grounds had many pretty spots, but this was the farthest from the house. We’d walked here with a picnic basket.
“It’s in the mountains. About two hours away.” Reaching out, I wrapped a hand around her ankle gently. Everything depended on her response now. “I thought maybe we could spend a few days there and…”
This was where my brain blanked out.
“We haven’t had any time, just us, in too long. We don’t know each other anymore. I want to fix that.”
Maya studied my face. “We had some time alone a few weeks ago. It didn’t go too well.”
“That…” I grimaced and rubbed at my jaw. “Well, there was too much going on. My head is in a better place now.”
Maya nodded slowly, but she looked away. I could tell she wasn’t sure what to think. I knew she wasn’t ready to trust me yet. “Why don’t you think about it
?”
I’d only been home about twenty minutes when the phone rang.
With a glass of water in hand, I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Glenn.” Maya’s voice was soft and hesitant.
“Hey. Everything’s okay? I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice again so soon.” I checked my watch. “It’s getting late.”
“I…you weren’t getting ready for bed, were you?”
I laughed. “No.” I drank some of the water. “No. Definitely not. I’m lucky if I can get to sleep before midnight. It’s barely ten.”
“Oh. Well, I tried to call earlier. You weren’t there.”
“I had to stop and buy some groceries. That’s usually an all-night experience. I can’t find anything.”
“You sound like it’s a novel experience.” Laughter laced her words as she spoke.
“I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’m just now able to remember that I need to keep the bread and eggs away from the rest of the stuff when I load the bags into my trunk so they don’t get smashed or broken. So…yeah, this is a new experience.”
This time, the laughter was bright and open, and I found myself smiling wider than I had in some time. “So, unless you called to hear about my adventures in grocery shopping, I guess you wanted to talk about something?”
“Because I did some thinking about that trip…I want to go.”
She blurted the words out, like she was afraid she’d change her mind.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Her voice was calmer now. “I want to go. You’re right. We don’t know each other anymore. How can we expect to make this work if we don’t really know each other?”
“Right. I mean, absolutely. Right.” Swiping my hand down my face, I looked around my house like I didn’t recognize it. “This weekend?”
“It’s a date.”
“Wow.” The soft, amazed word came from Maya as we finally rounded the steep, climbing drive. Recognizing that wonder in her voice, I slowed down and let her look her fill. The mountains ranged out for as far as the eye could see and there was nothing but clear, blue sky, puffy clouds and staggeringly beautiful peaks. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’ve always thought so.” After a few more seconds, I pressed down on the gas. “Let’s go. I’ve got a bathroom that’s got a window that faces out over this view. You can run yourself a tub full of hot water and stare to your heart’s content.”
“Maybe later,” she said, a wistful smile on her face as she sagged into the seat. “I’m hungry.”
“You can take a bath and I’ll make dinner.”
She blinked at me. “You? Make dinner?”I glanced at her, unable to keep the smirk from my face. “I can cook.”
“Since when?” The weariness had left her eyes, and she gazed at me with confusion and befuddlement.
“Since I realized that if I wanted to eat something more than diner food or at restaurants, I had to make a change. Nothing beats a home cooked dinner so I decided to learn to cook. Cold sandwiches get old, Maya.” I crooked a smile at her as I pulled the car to a stop in front of the cabin.
“You call this a cabin?” she said, sputtering the words out. “I was thinking you had some rustic old wooden shanty or something.”
Amused, I glanced over at her. “A shanty. Well…” I studied the house and nodded. “I guess it’s a bit more than a shanty.”
The cabin was over three thousand square feet of gleaming golden wood and sparkling windows. Much of the western wall was made of glass, allowing me to see the sun as it sank closer and closer to the horizon. I’d bought this property with the money that my mother had left me, and I’d built the house after I’d signed my first contract. The houses in Hollywood belonged to my parents.
This place…it was mine.
“Come on.” Holding out a hand, I waited for Maya to accept. “Let’s go inside.”
The house was too rarely used for me to have full-time housekeeping staff, but I did have a couple in town that came up once a month to clean and air it out. The man handled any repairs that came up due to the high altitudes and harsh winters, while his wife took care of the cleaning and dusting.
When I’d asked her if she could come in early this month and do some shopping, she’d been delighted. It hadn’t taken her much to figure out what I was asking her to shop for—all the accouterments of a romantic dinner, breakfast in bed, as well as things a woman might need for toiletries and soaking in the tub.
“You’ve found yourself a lady, haven’t you, Mr. Jackson?” She’d all but cackled in glee. “You be sure to introduce us. You never took your last girl.”
Maya had been my last girl. The only one who had ever mattered.
Actually, she’d been the first girl, too, if I wanted to look at it that way.
I hadn’t bothered to tell Rosa that it was the same woman.
I could do that later.
Right now, Maya was soaking in the tub, and I had everything ready to go when she was done.
Craning my head, I looked up at the ceiling, but I heard nothing coming from the direction of the bathroom suite. With a sigh, I tugged the newspaper article from my pocket.
I gave the dinner prep one last look, then headed for the stairs.
She’d been soaking in the tub for a good twenty minutes, and I’d spent almost every single minute of that brooding.
I didn’t want this to hang over the weekend.
“Come on in,” she answered, voice warm and lazy.
Sliding inside, I took in the sight of her, leaning against the lip of the tub. Her hair curled around her face, cheeks flushed. She went to sit up but I moved closer. “Don’t. You keep being lazy. That’s the point of this.”
She crooked a smile at me. “I like that point.” With a sigh, she slumped deeper into the water. “Is dinner ready? Do you want me to get out?”
“No. Take your time.” I grabbed the small trunk that served as a table and pulled it over. Sitting down on it, I met her eyes. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Yeah?” With a sleepy smile, she said, “If you’re trying to call dibs on this tub, you’re out of luck. I’m claiming it as my own personal property.”
“You can have it.” Reaching over, I took the hand she had on the lip of the tub. “I’ll wrap it in a big red ribbon if you want.”
She giggled. The sound echoed around the room and tugged a smile out of me.
“You can leave the ribbon off. Just tell me that we can come back here so I can use this tub again.”
“Absolutely.” Bringing her hand to my lips, I kissed the back of it. “Listen…in all seriousness…I know we still need to figure out who we are now, but there are things that haven’t changed.” Rubbing the inside of her wrist with my thumb, I kept my gaze on hers. “You’ve always been a little too blunt, a little too honest. You wouldn’t have lied about this.”
“About…oh.” She sat up straighter. “Oh. You’re telling me…”
Sliding off the trunk, I went to my knees next to her. “I should’ve believed you from the beginning. Sure, your story was out-there crazy insane, but that was all the more reason for me to believe it. You would never have made up something like that. You’re too honest.” Cupping her cheek, I tugged her mouth toward mine. Our lips met just as her breath hitched on a ragged sigh.
Drawing back, I met her eyes.
They were over bright with damp tears and her mouth trembled. But she was smiling.
“I found something,” I said. “Before I show it to you, I want you to know that I’d already figured things out before I saw this. But…I did see it, and I thought maybe you should know.”
I held out the article. Water from her fingers dappled the newspaper clipping.
Her eyes widened as her fingers clenched.
“My aunt.” She licked her lips, then, her hand shaking, she turned the piece of newspaper back over to me.
“I don’t know if she’s one of the ones who died. I
didn’t look that up. I didn’t think it would help anyway. But you already know that just being here changes things.”
“Yes.” She glanced at me. “Like Florence.” She reached up and swiped at her face.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She forced a laugh, the sound watery. “I just…the baby. Hormones. Emotions. I cry too much.” She waved a hand at me. “Go on. Finish up dinner…I’ll be down soon.”
Dinner lay half-eaten on the table in front of the windows.
I lay on my back on the couch with Maya straddling me.
She’d come downstairs in her bathrobe, smiling sheepishly because she’d forgotten her clothes.
I’d taken her hand and guided her to the table.
If I’d actually wanted us to finish the meal, I should’ve let her get dressed.
But I was happy with the way things had turned out.
The hot, wet muscles of her pussy contracted around me and I squeezed her hips, urging her to move faster.
She moaned, her fingers flexing against my chest, her head falling back to reveal the elegant line of her neck.
The robe fell from her shoulders to catch around her elbows.
She looked beautiful, sexy…and mine.
She rolled her hips again, rubbing against me and squeezing, riding me straight into bliss. Grabbing her ass, I lifted her up.
Her eyes flew wide.
“More,” I muttered, arching up to meet her as I pulled her back down. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Same goes,” she said, smiling down at me. A sigh shivered out of her, her breasts rising and falling with the movement.
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on my shoulders as she began to move up and down. The long, low moan that escaped her was like a hand stroking down my skin, over my balls. I wanted to hear her moan like that every night for the rest of my life—and every morning. Every afternoon.
The thought of it made me a little crazy and I moved faster, bracing my heels on the floor to gain better traction.
Maya pushed down harder, grinding her hips against me. She milked me harder, the spasms already starting as she began to come.
