Hope’s Child

by Helen R. Myers

As he closed the door behind himself, Hope exhaled a not-quite-steady breath and quickly stripped out of her lingerie knowing that he would waste no time in there. Reaching for the fluffy white wash cloth, she saturated it in the hot water and pumped some liquid coconut-scented soap onto it.

  When Lyon shut off the bathroom lights and re-entered the bedroom he found Hope waiting for him resplendent in sea-green sheets. In the low light coming from under the dark shade of her bedside lamp, she looked as iridescent as the silk she lay between. As always, his heart clenched at the sight of her. He still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, but tonight he was letting himself believe—at least a little—that this arrangement, legal though it was, wasn’t temporary.

  Hope’s expression turned quizzical as he joined her. “That’s an interesting look on your face,” she said, welcoming him with her caressing touch. She lingered on the faint cropping of black hairs that reflected the other half of his ancestry. “What are you thinking about?”

  “You.”

  “I wasn’t begging for a compliment.”

  “It’s the truth anyway. I was thinking of the kind of woman you are. How you heal your own wounds by easing those of others.”

  Her breath catching, Hope leaned over and kissed his chest. “Lyon…that’s lovely. But sad, too. Is it because of what I asked to name the baby? If that’s going to constantly remind you of losing your parents, we won’t do it.”

  “No, I want to. I’m just floored at your generosity, making me more a part of this,” he said gently stroking her abdomen.

  Hope laid her head against him and stroked him with her cheek as she caressed him with her hands. “I always knew you as decent and different, Lyon, but when you say such things and show me more of who you are, I see something too tender to do the work you do.”

  “It’s getting surprisingly easier,” he said losing his fingers in her hair. “I have a little secret.”

  “You’re going to say something sweet or too generous. Don’t.”

  “A silken-haired seductress whose eyes forever tie me in knots.”

  Pushing him onto his back with a strength that shouldn’t have surprised him since he knew what it took to handle animals ten and more times her weight, he was taken aback by the tears he saw in her eyes.

  “Your soul touches mine,” she whispered. “That probably sounds silly in this day and age, but it’s the truth. Do you feel it?”

  “You’re precious to me.”

  She closed her eyes as though tasting the words. When she looked at him again, she asked, “Then why didn’t you let me see who you were sooner?”

  The question had been like a long-range missile, he’d known that it was coming, he just never knew exactly when. “You know why.”

  That grim reply silenced her because she clearly did. But he saw that she blamed herself for what didn’t happen as much as for what did, and he didn’t want that. “I’m no coward, Hope, but I’m not a big gambler. My assets limit me, and I’m not talking about finances. I’m talking about who and what I chose to be—as a son, a friend, and honorable cop. How could I tell you anything—a woman some elitists still believe I shouldn’t touch?”

  He’d noticed examples of the latter issue just recently. Every year Hope got invited to countless society functions, some of them touted pedigreed affairs. At the moment, one or two were not forthcoming. She gave no indication of being upset or even caring, but he was and did. Not for himself, but for what this could mean to her growing career in good works.

  Hope, however, was shattered by what he’d shared. “If I hadn’t proposed to you, you’d never have asked me out, would you?”

  “It didn’t seem like it would work in this lifetime.” He held her gaze, but what he saw was what he’d expected his future to be—too empty and lonely to describe. Then he smiled and gave himself the gift of exploring her flawless skin. “But you’re here now and as long as you are, I can’t keep from reaching for you.”

  “Lyon…”

  He silenced her by drawing her completely over him and kissing her. His mood was as raw, his emotions as painful as an open wound. “Take me inside you,” he whispered against her warm, pliant lips. “I need you.”

  For seconds longer he felt her resistance. She wanted to talk, to understand, to make him say things he had convinced himself that he had no right to say. But she was right—in the universe that housed their spirits, their souls had been designed to be as one. She’d recognized him before, and he was exposing himself to her now. With his searching kiss and his enticing touch he drew her away from this world of uncertainty, and into the bliss only they could create together.

  Straddling him as she would one of her mounts, Hope accepted him slowly, even though she was already moist and ready for him. It just made the journey all the more poignant, a sweet torture that had him gritting his teeth and gripping the sheet to keep from leaving his imprint on her tender skin. She intensified the exquisite torment as she began caressing his chest, trailing her fingers along the collarbone he’d broken once during a game, over his hard nipples aching for her touch, down his rock-hard belly to his navel and then back up again.

  When she leaned forward to wet his nipples and tease him with her mouth, he pulsed inside her, and the epithet wrenched from deep in his throat was both plea and prayer.

  The movements of her hips were as graceful and smooth as though she was on a languid ride, her silken thighs holding him as firmly as she would her mount’s flanks. Lyon opened his eyes wanting to watch her because that captivated him as much as her touch did. With her head and shoulders thrown back, her breasts were a superb offering and he worshipped her with his hands, then devoured her with his mouth.

  Needing her liquid heat again, he drew her with him against the pillows and headboard, until her body rested completely against his. Pulsating deep inside her, he could feel her inner muscles clenching while her eyes grew low-hooded as she gave herself up to intoxicating lure of release.

  “Kiss me,” he said locking her against him with arms that ached to own and keep her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her fingers moving over and through his hair. But her kisses were butterfly caresses that flittered over his cheekbone, along his jaw, between his eyebrows, and then the corner of his mouth. “Yes…yes…”

  “For the love of heaven,” Lyon groaned, “Kiss me.”

  Hope clasped his face between her hands and gave him what he wanted. With a groan of relief he drove into her. He couldn’t hold her close enough, couldn’t plunge himself deep enough to assuage the heavy ache. The desperation was upon him, but ecstasy was advancing. She rode them both to the edge and over and he heard her cry out his name and felt her shatter in his arms.

  My heart. My life. My love.

  They hovered in that place as long as possible, almost ceasing to breathe to prolong each delicious sensation. Then, although muscles relaxed and the fever ebbed, he couldn’t bear to release her.

  Coaxing her head onto his shoulder, he stroked her hair in apology. “Please…at least for a little while. You’re comfortable, aren’t you?”

  “There are no words,” she murmured against his neck.

  As he felt her drift off to sleep, he drew up the sheet, extended his right arm and switched off her light. He lay there in the darkness a willing sentry guarding and warming what was most precious in his life.

  His own lids were growing heavy when he felt a tiny kick against his abdomen. His heart swelled anew, his throat ached as emotion rose there straining for release. Slowly, with excruciating care so as not to rouse the dream in his arms, he reached down to lay a soothing hand over Hope’s child. “Sweet dreams, little Meredith,” he whispered.

  Chapter Nine

  For Christmas, Hope convinced Lyon that they should hold an open house. She explained that she always had one anyway, but at the office. Since her assistant Freddie would be taking her vacation over the holidays and would be out of the country, relocating made all the sense
.

  And then she got the idea that Lyon should invite everyone from the department. Lyon joked that while they were at it, they could invite the city council, too, but Hope thought it a brilliant idea. It would show how Lyon held no grudges, was well liked by his people, and that they were a happy couple.

  Lyon asked, “Why can’t we just send out smiling photo Christmas cards?”

  Into early November, he kept trying to talk her out of it. At first he cited the strain on her pregnancy, and when that didn’t do any good, he insisted that it was too much work for her regardless of how organized he had to admit she was—and, no, having Molly’s able assistance didn’t change his mind.

  That’s when Hope called upon one of her newer clients, divorcée Lara Conti. This was exactly the kind of exposure Lara’s fledgling catering business needed to trigger word-of-mouth and get her more bookings. By the time their lunch meeting was over, Lara had the job and Hope knew she had gained another strong ally in town.

  The open house was held the Saturday before Christmas and would begin at seven in the evening and would go until ten o’clock. By seven in the morning Hope, Lara and her mother Geraldine, and Molly were hard at it in Hope’s kitchen.

  Saturdays had become Lyon’s indulgence time when he liked to linger in bed—preferably with Hope by his side, have coffee with her while reading the Dallas newspaper and Hope’s Wall Street Journal, and basically play the day by ear in that give-and-take way they’d comfortably fallen into. But on Party Saturday, Hope was out of bed before the slightest hint of daylight peeked around the windows’ mini-blinds. When he warily entered the kitchen at seven-thirty, the place looked like an understaffed soup kitchen.

  Lyon politely greeted the ladies…and with papers under his arm, drove into town hoping the coffee wasn’t already too thick at the station and that not all of the donuts were eaten.

  Hope was in the bathroom putting the finishing touches on her makeup when he returned around five that evening. “Hey,” she murmured as he stopped in the doorway to softly whistle at her.

  “Woman, what are you on that you can look like that at seven months after being on your feet for ten hours?” he demanded.

  “The vitamins Dr. Winslow put me on help, as does yoga, but—” closing the tube of mascara, she came to him and lifted her face for a kiss “—I highly recommend having a patient and understanding husband, too.”

  After a brief, but possessive kiss, Lyon said, “It would have been nice to hear stud muffin somewhere in all of that.”

  “I didn’t want to get my imagination and hormones all hot and bothered when there’s so little time,” she told him in apology. “How was your day?”

  “Far easier and less exciting than yours.” Lyon took hold of her hands and held them out to inspect her dress. She wore a red velvet empire dress with long tight sleeves that ended in a point at her wrists. With the gold chain in her hair that dangled a teardrop ruby on her forehead, she looked like medieval royalty. Matching stud earrings completed the image. “You’re breathtaking. I’m not sure I want my men within five miles of you, but like the rest of this place, you look like a fairy tale come to life.”

  Gently wiping lip gloss from his lower lip, Hope smiled. “I would have loved for everyone to bring their children, but with so many people, it would have been impossible to monitor them properly and to avoid accidents.”

  “Good point. We forgot just one thing—call for the EMTS to have a truck stationed outside. I glimpsed the food on my way through the kitchen and it’s nothing short of a cardiac patient’s last meal dream.”

  “Well, it’s not a party unless the tummy gets pampered. I told you Lara is good. And wait until you see the heaping trays of shrimp and crab legs that are chilling.”

  When Hope met her, Lara had been an abandoned mother of three. The divorcée was living with her widowed mother Geraldine as she tried to dig her way out of debts and back taxes incurred by her two-timing ex-husband. No bank would touch her to help her launch a catering business, so Lara would bake in her mother’s kitchen and go from store to office with her products, trying to garner enough interest to keep her family fed and clothed. Once she tasted Lara’s quality product and saw how she paid attention to making packaging attractive, she sat the woman down in her office and said, “Show me your business plan.” The rest, as the saying goes, was history.

  “I’ll have to arrange for a 211 call from the station to clear out my crew. It’ll take at least a robbery to keep them from acting like they’re at a feeding trough. You were too generous, sweetheart.”

  “There’ll be plenty for everyone. But that reminds me—did you arrange for someone to bring your relief dispatcher a plate? Who’s on duty this evening?”

  “Maggie Greer. She all but begged for the job. She just lost over fifty pounds and wants to keep it that way.”

  Deep in thought, Hope tapped a red fingernail against her lips. “Then be sure to bring her one of the centerpieces afterward. She’ll be able to use the crystal vase for years to come.”

  Lyon kissed her again. “As I said, too generous. So how many do you think will show? You have enough food for five or six hundred.”

  “Considering the list and add the spouses or dates…somewhere around 250-300.”

  “If they all come at once, Tan will have a nervous breakdown trying to keep parking under control.”

  “I know, but I’ve been to these kinds of events before and somehow it does seem to work out. You need to start getting ready and I need to get into the kitchen,” she said beginning to unbutton his shirt. “The girls will be returning at any minute to start the final preparations.”

  “I wish you would have saved yourself unnecessary stress and not invited Clyde and Mercy,” Lyon said.

  Leaning forward to breathe in his male scene, Hope then touched her lips to his chest. “I appreciate your protectiveness, but it was simply smart strategy not to snub them, just as it was to send my father an invitation, too. I doubt they’ll come.”

  “You know I’ll support you since at least he’s a blood relative, but if he marries Summer Isadore as rumor has it, you can cut your ties with my blessing.”

  “He has a right to be happy I guess,” she said. She took his hand and drew him farther into the bathroom toward his closet where she had a new sports jacket, dress shirt and dress jeans hanging pressed and ready for him. “Do you mind that I took the liberty?”

  “Mind that you thought about me when you’ve been working for weeks with this party and decorating on top of your already busy schedule? Yeah, I’m ballistic.”

  Hope’s body was humming with happiness when she returned to the kitchen. As much as she was looking forward to the party, she couldn’t wait until tonight when everyone went home and she could return to Lyon’s arms. They were growing closer with every day and becoming a more intricate part of each other’s lives. She couldn’t ask for anything more—except for the words a woman in love had a right to own.

  No, she told herself, she would not let herself get depressed or worry about that now.

  The back door opened and a hesitant voice called, “Am I too early?”

  Molly entered and immediately took off her bright red wool coat exposing a green velvet dress with seed pearls sewn around the collar. It was Hope’s Christmas present to her along with a set of pearl earrings.

  “You’re right on time and how lovely you look!” Hope said clapping her hands in delight. “What did Tan say when he saw you?”

  “He cut me this from his greenhouse.” She turned and pointed to the delicate gardenia in her hair above the bow that Hope had bought her so she could have her long hair tied back.

  “Oh, how romantic. You’re going to help the house smell so good.”

  Her blue eyes huge as she looked around, “It smells that way already. I told Tan—wait.” Molly had to stop herself and think a moment. “Tan said to tell the chief that he will be outside at the front gate by 6:30.”

  “I will,
and I’ll remind Lyon that Tan needs the reflective vest he said he wanted to wear.”

  “He already did. He brought it to him last night—and the police radio and flashlight.” Molly giggled, but looked proud, too. “You should see him. He’s acting like it’s the whole uniform, he’s so proud.”

  Grateful to have such dear and helpful people in her life, Hope assured her. “Well, he’s playing a vital role even if it doesn’t get too crowded all at once out there. We’ve had a wet autumn and if people are allowed to drive anywhere they please, we’ll have to start the landscaping all over come spring.”

  Molly looked stricken. “I didn’t think of that—but I bet Tan did.”

  Patting her back gently, Hope redirected her focus. “Let’s start putting out the candles in strategic places, but we won’t light them until we hear Tan on the radio Lyon put in the kitchen that he’s taking his position. Do you know where your lighter is?”

  Molly gave her a confident nod. “In my apron pocket in the kitchen.”

  “Wonderful. And while we’re placing the candles, let’s start plugging in the lights. This way when Lara and Gerri arrive, we can start setting out platters as they prepare them.”

  The slender woman headed for the kitchen repeating the directions to herself. Lara and Geraldine arrived about fifteen minutes later looking confident but excited and promptly put on their aprons bearing the Conti Catering logo.

  By the time Lyon joined them, soft Christmas tunes were playing on the stereo, the tree was lit in the bay window in the living room, a small fire was burning in the fireplace, and Hope’s lifelong collection of Christmas decorations created a fantasy world around the house.

  “I hardly recognize the place,” Lyon said planting a kiss just above the jewel on her forehead. “Where have you been keeping all of this stuff? The life-size, animated St. Nicholas at the front door for instance?”

  “In one of the sheds behind the barn, carefully boxed and labeled,” she added.

  Rubbing his hands together, he said, “Shouldn’t I be getting on with my job as the official food sampler?”