Not Even if You Begged

by Francis Ray

  “You’re not wearing a bra?” he said, his voice husky, strained.

  “No.”

  She felt his lips warm and tender on her naked skin. She shivered.

  “Traci, I’m not sure I can do this.”

  She turned in his arms, then reached down and pulled her dress over her head. If she had any doubts about how he felt about her or what she was doing, the awed expression on his face made them fade away. He stared as if mesmerized at the breasts that had always embarrassed her.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “You make me believe,” she confessed.

  “Traci,” he sighed her name, his mouth fastening on hers.

  Heat and desire enveloped her. She reached between them, fumbling to unfasten his slacks, push them down, but they snagged and wouldn’t fall. Her hands trembled when she saw the reason. My, oh, my. Now she was the one mesmerized.

  Ryan grabbed the condom out of his pants pocket before he shucked them and his silk briefs off. Then she was in his arms and on the bed with his powerful body over hers. “We’ll light the candles next time.”

  She licked her lips and nodded. “Next time.”

  His mouth took hers again, his long-fingered hand found her wet and hungry. Their eyes met, held. He gripped her hips and surged into her, filled her. The fit was exquisite. She moaned, locked her legs around his waist.

  “A fantasy fulfilled,” she murmured.

  “Not yet.” He rode her fast and well.

  “That was—” Traci began.

  “Magnificent. Incredible,” Ryan finished.

  Ryan grinned at Traci. She grinned back. Satisfied and content for the moment, they faced each other on the bed, his arm draped over her. “I told you you could do it.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “You bring out the best in me.”

  She tenderly traced the curve of his lower lip with her fingertip. “You have a beautifully shaped mouth.”

  He snorted and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “It has its uses. Like fulfilling fantasy number five.” His hot, fantastic mouth kept going lower and lower.

  “Oh, my,” Traci moaned, and her toes curled just before she grabbed his head and screamed her pleasure.

  Standing at the hallway window on the second floor of her house, Maureen watched the lights go out on the second floor of Traci’s house.

  Smiling to herself, Maureen went to her bedroom. Ryan finally saw what a wonderful woman Traci was, and Traci had stopped living in the past. She’d opened her eyes and arms to love again.

  Maureen’s thoughts immediately went to Simon. Her gaze was drawn to her wide bed. Her body stirred. She blew out a breath and pulled aside the down comforter. The phone on the bedside rang.

  Hoping it was Simon, she quickly picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Did I wake you?” Simon asked.

  “No.” Her body trembling the tiniest bit, she sat on her bed.

  “Thanks again for your help tonight,” he said.

  Her fingers tightened. “Too bad it wasn’t appreciated. Your future sister-in-law needs a lesson in manners. Brianna’s attack on Traci was uncalled for.”

  “Believe me, she’s heard that from Patrick, me, and her parents,” Simon told her. “It was pointed out that she had clients she hadn’t wanted to represent. Patrick told her that he agreed with Ryan about removing himself as her doctor. For the record, so do I.”

  Relief swept through Maureen. It was nice to know she hadn’t been wrong about Simon. He was a fair and understanding man. “Thank you.”

  “How is Traci?”

  Maureen’s lips curved. “I think she’s fine.”

  “Good. I hate to ask, but I need your support to help Brianna get her foot out of her mouth.”

  “She’s going to apologize?” Brianna hadn’t struck Maureen as the apologizing type.

  “She’s certainly going to try.”

  “I’m in. What do you want me to do?”

  Maureen and Traci usually left for work between 9:25 and 9:30 to be at work by 10:00.

  It was 9:32 and Ryan’s car was still in Traci’s drive. Maureen wasn’t snooping. She knew Ryan was in his office no later than 10:00 each morning. He certainly couldn’t wear his dinner jacket to work. He’d have to go home or come over to her house to change. She glanced at her wristwatch. She didn’t know if she should call and see if they were awake or let them both be late.

  On some mornings Traci would call or Maureen would call and invite the other over for breakfast. She hadn’t thought that would happen and had fixed a simple breakfast of toast and juice for herself. Both Ryan and Traci enjoyed starting the day off with substantially more. Indecision held Maureen immobile.

  Nine thirty-six. Just as Maureen decided she’d phone, Ryan came out the front door of Traci’s house. He went a few steps, then went back to grab Traci’s hand. She balked. It was obvious she was reluctant to go with him. Ryan wasn’t having it. He tugged her down the steps, then started toward Maureen’s house.

  Letting the curtain fall, Maureen went to the kitchen. She didn’t want them to think she’d been spying on them. Well, she had, but in a caring way.

  She heard the front door open and picked up her forgotten cup of coffee.

  “Hi, Mother. I’m going upstairs to change. Traci’s here.”

  She heard a “sheee,” then Ryan’s laughter, followed by a long silence. He was kissing her. She was happy for them. Some people could do without love but none of them could. Thank heavens they didn’t have to. She had no idea if it was the lasting, forever kind between Ryan and Traci. Time would tell. For herself, she knew it was for a short while and then Simon would move on.

  No one had to tell her that a man who volunteered his time to help young people would want children of his own. And she could never give them to him.

  The sounds of Ryan’s feet pounding up the stairs pulled her from her unhappy thoughts. She’d just enjoy the time they had together, be grateful for that, and not ask for more.

  Traci, appearing uncertain, walked into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. We—” She looked at the floor, out the window.

  “Traci,” Maureen went to her. “I’m glad you’re my friend. I’m glad about you and Ryan, but if it’s going to ruin our friendship, I might think differently.”

  Her head finally came up. “I really like him, you know.”

  “I know,” Ruth said. “He likes you, too.”

  A radiant smile came over Traci’s face. “I still can’t believe it. He’s wonderful.”

  “I happen to think so.” Maureen went to pick up her purse on the counter. “I’d better get going. Ryan can set the alarm. Tell him good-bye for me.”

  “I will.” Traci went to her and hugged her. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would have done if you had acted differently toward me.”

  Maureen shook her head. “Never. But I do need a favor.”

  “Ask.”

  “Can you please stop by the shop around eleven this morning? I’d like you to talk to Jason,” Maureen requested. “He needs to know that hard work and determination pay off.”

  “Still mouthy?”

  “He’s a teenager,” Maureen quipped, and they both laughed.

  Traci called her grandfather as soon as she reached her office.

  “Hi, Granddaddy. Sorry I couldn’t talk this morning,” she said, flushing in remembrance of the reason why.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Ezekiel Hightower asked. “You sounded out of breath.”

  Her granddaddy might be seventy-eight, but he was nobody’s fool. Traci twisted uncomfortably in her seat. “Exercising.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in that?” he reminded her.

  “Something changed my mind,” she said, and smiled to herself. A gorgeous man. “Enough about me. How’s your garden?”

  “I have cucumbers a foot long. Tomatoes so big it’s a g
ood thing they’re staked,” he said proudly. “If those blasted post office people knew what they were doing, I’d send you some, but they’d bang them up like the other times.”

  Her granddaddy hated bruised fruit and vegetables. “I might be able to break away and fly down in a month or so.”

  “If you had your business here, you wouldn’t have to wait.”

  It was an old argument. They both knew why she would never return permanently to Macon. “My client base is here, Granddaddy.” Her buzzer went off. “My appointment is here. Love you. ’Bye.”

  “I love you, too, Scamp. Be careful with that exercise. You don’t want to get hurt.”

  So she hadn’t thrown him off track. “I won’t. ’Bye.”

  “’Bye.”

  Traci hung up the phone and buzzed her secretary to send the next client in. She was still a bit embarrassed with Maureen knowing that Ryan and she were sleeping together, but it proved to her that he wasn’t playing with her feelings. He cared and respected his mother, and letting her know he and Traci were an item showed Traci he cared for and respected her, too. Where it might lead, she didn’t know, but she had every intention of finding out.

  The door opened and Dee Dee Walker came in. She had dyed blond hair, a seven-thousand-dollar Loro Piana ostrich handbag, and a black eye. Traci could guess how she’d gotten it. Her husband, Craig Walker, was slime. “The appointment says Darlene Smith.”

  Dressed in an Armani pantsuit that Traci couldn’t fit over any part of her body, Dee Dee took a seat in the wing chair in front of Traci’s desk. “My maiden name.”

  Traci folded her hands on top of her desk. “I told Craig I wouldn’t represent him any longer. I meant it.”

  “I know. That’s why I came.” She gingerly touched her eye. “That bastard did this to me, and he’s going to pay and pay good. You can help me.”

  Traci had experienced the impotent rage Dee Dee felt. Dante had hit her once and ended up with more bruises than she had. He hadn’t tried again, but that hadn’t stopped him from degrading her every chance he got. “I’m sorry. I can’t divulge confidential information about a client.”

  “I figured as much.” The other woman scooted forward. “But you can tell me the best way to ensure, when the time comes to file for divorce, that me and my three children will get what we deserve for putting up with his crap for all these years, not what’s left over.”

  The idea intrigued Traci and it would hit Craig where he would feel it the most. “Essentially, you want to protect your children’s financial future and your assets.”

  “And fry his ass in the process,” Dee Dee said, her hand touching her eye again.

  Traci smiled. “That, Ms. Smith, I can do.”

  It felt good to be on the other side.

  Traci strolled down the street toward Forever Yours with a smile. Dee Dee had left Traci’s office on her way to her doctor, who would record the black eye. She would need ammunition for the divorce. Although the other advice she’d given Dee Dee was a bit shady, Traci’s conscience was clear.

  Entering Forever Yours, she was greeted by a pleasant hello from Henrietta and a stare from Jason. “Hi, Henrietta. I see you have more beautiful things in.”

  “Business has been good,” she said. “How are things with you?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” Traci grinned like a fool. Having the right man in your life sure made living more interesting.

  Henrietta folded her arms. “I’ve seen that look before. And it’s about time I saw it on your face.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was just about to go in the back to check on an order. Excuse me.”

  “Sure.” Apparently Henrietta already knew why Traci was there. “Hi, you must be Jason.”

  “Mrs. Gilmore tell you about me?” he asked, his tone accusatory.

  “That you were a talented artist and were working for her? Yes.”

  Interest piqued where there’d been suspicion in his eyes. “She said that?”

  “She did, and Maureen is as honest as they come.” Traci crossed to him, pretending to examine an eighteenth-century highboy. “What do you enjoy drawing most?”

  “Everything,” he said after a moment’s silence. “I like seeing it form on the page. It’s almost as if I created it.”

  “You did.” She faced him and saw the yearning in his face. “You took a blank sheet of paper or a canvas and gave it purpose.”

  “Do you draw?” he asked, taking a step toward her.

  “Hardly,” she laughed, then sobered. “My grandfather taught me that philosophy about life. Your future is blank. It’s up to you to give it purpose and not waste a day of it. To draw on it, so to speak.”

  “He must be rich, too?” Jason said, the thawing of moments ago gone.

  “Very,” she replied. “But not in the way you might think. He’s worked on a farm that his father and his grandfather worked before him. In all of his life, he’s never slept past five in the morning, never owed a debt that he didn’t repay, never turned his back on his fellow man, never gotten up in the morning or gone to sleep at night without thanking God. His hands are calloused from doing backbreaking work from dawn to dusk and often into the night. His shoulders are a little stooped, but he’s the tallest man I know. No matter what, I know he’ll always be there for me.”

  Jason’s hands went into his pockets. “It’s just me and my mother. We moved here from Detroit when her job transferred her here six months ago.”

  The yearning, the loneliness in his voice for someone else to be there for him was almost tangible. Traci knew what that felt like. She loved her grandfather, would do anything for him, but until a few years ago she’d desperately tried to get her mother to welcome her back into her life. Traci had finally accepted that that would never happen. “You also have Maureen.”

  “She’s all right, but she’ll forget me when I leave.” He glanced out the window. “I just work here.”

  “Maureen is not that type of person. If you’re blessed enough to be her friend, she’ll be there no matter what,” Traci told him. “When I moved next door to her, I tried to keep her at arm’s length, but she wouldn’t let me. She can be stubborn, but it’s for the other person’s own good.”

  “She bought me a drawing set,” he murmured as if he still couldn’t believe it.

  “Sounds like her. She believes in you.” Traci folded her arms. “So what or who is going to be the subject of your first sketch?”

  “I didn’t take it. She probably returned it,” he said, regret in his voice, on his face.

  “Without a doubt, I can say you’re wrong. She still has it. All you have to do is ask for it, then be sensible enough to take the gift and start writing on your life’s canvas,” she declared.

  “You make it sound easy,” he grumbled.

  “Reaching out to a person who is trying to help you is easy. The hard part is not letting other people keep you down,” she replied. “Becoming an artist won’t be easy. Some of your friends might call you sissy or stupid. You can listen or ignore them. Your choice and your life, but you only get one chance.”

  He frowned. “Why are you telling me all this? Why should you care?”

  “Because Maureen cares. Because I once stood in your shoes,” she confessed. “Don’t waste your life; live it.”

  He stared at her a long time. Slowly his hands came out of his pockets. “I think I’ll go ask Mrs. Gilmore for the art set.”

  “Good idea,” she responded. “I think I’ll browse for a bit longer.”

  He hesitated. “Mrs. Gilmore likes for one of us to be in the front of the store at all times.”

  Even in his wanting, he was being responsible. Maureen was right. He had potential. “I’ll watch things.”

  “Thanks.” He was off.

  He’d barely disappeared into the back when the front door opened. The smile on Traci’s face disappeared. In strode Brianna Ireland.

  C h a p t e r

  14 />
  Sometimes you have to dance with the devil.

  Traci recalled one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings and went to greet Brianna. As usual she was stylishly dressed in a magenta-colored pantsuit. Instead of the high heels she wore flats. She had the kind of elegant figure and beautiful face that Traci had always wanted. As soon as that thought came, there came another: Ryan liked her the way she was.

  “Good morning, Brianna. I’ll get someone to help you.”

  “Traci, could you please wait?” Brianna asked. “I’d like to speak with you.”

  “There’s more you didn’t say last night?” Traci’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  “I’d like to talk to you about that,” Brianna said.

  Traci folded her arms. “You want me to ask Ryan to take you back as a patient.”

  “I can do that myself,” Brianna told her. “I’m here to ask you to forgive me.”

  Traci couldn’t hide her surprise. Her arms dropped to her sides. “What?”

  “I’d like to blame it on the hormones, but I can’t. I was so scared last night. I just wanted Dr. Gilmore, and when I saw you with him, my fear turned to anger that you might have kept him away from me and my baby,” she confessed.

  “I think I understand,” Traci said slowly.

  “Patrick and my parents weren’t happy with me.” She made a face and blew out a breath. “Nothing like the man you love and the parents you adore on your case to make you see reason.”

  “You aren’t known for backing down,” Traci said. “Are you sure this isn’t to get Ryan back as your doctor or keep me quiet about your pregnancy?”

  Brianna’s face softened, her hand tenderly cupped her flat abdomen. “Although I don’t want my pregnancy fodder for gossip, it’s not likely that I will be able to keep my condition hidden much longer.”

  “I would never divulge information about Ryan’s patients, and that includes Justine,” Traci said, and watched Brianna’s gaze sharpen.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Merely that I always investigate all the parties involved when doing PR work. It can be … useful,” Traci said.