Of course, the new computer and software would make her upcoming consulting job a lot easier, not to mention the writing of her cookbook series. And she did appreciate the help with the boys, Susannah conceded reluctantly to herself. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, he was completely taking over her life again, as effortlessly as he’d done before, and it had only taken him thirty-two hours. What would it be like in thirty-two days, or thirty-two weeks? Would she end up feeling as incidental to their life together as she had before? And how would she cope with that if it did happen? she wondered bleakly.
As the storm continued to rage outside, Trace studied her expression. Finally, he said patiently, “If you have another option, I’m willing to listen.”
That was just it, Susannah thought with a beleaguered sigh as she climbed from the bed. They didn’t have any other options. Of course, she had put herself in this position, Susannah thought as she pulled on a satin robe she found in the closet. She knew to give Trace an inch was to give him a mile. Turning away, she did her best to hide the tumult swirling inside her, the fear that nothing had really changed between them, after all. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, then…” Trace frowned abruptly as he pulled on a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants he found in one of the bureau drawers. “Damn,” he muttered, a distracted faraway look in his blue eyes.
Susannah started. Something was up. Something that obviously didn’t include her. “What?” she prodded.
“I need to tell my attorney the Farraday deal is on again. I better call him.”
Business again, even as midnight approached.
Tamping down her disappointment, she watched as Trace picked up the telephone again. “We’re going to need a notary to witness the transaction, too,” he murmured.
Trace started to dial, then studied the expression on her face, and stopped mid-dial before he said, “The more I do to set things up this evening, the smoother things will run tomorrow morning.”
Susannah knew that. She even understood it. She told herself she was being childish. She could handle Trace’s devotion to business this time around, provided he made time for her and the boys, too. She slipped her hands inside the pockets of her robe. “I wanted to take a hot bath, anyway.”
He nodded, his mind on business again. “I’ll be in to keep you company as soon as I finish.”
Wondering if he would keep that promise, or disappoint her yet again, Susannah slipped into the adjacent bathroom, filled the claw-foot tub with bubbles and hot water, and lit some candles. She had wanted to honor Max’s wishes without getting emotionally involved with Trace again. But she’d gotten involved anyway. She had wanted to think that the second-honeymoon phase of their relationship would last a little longer. But that wasn’t happening, either, Susannah thought with a troubled sigh. The simple truth was that she and Trace had been romantically reunited for little more than a day and it was already back to business as usual. With Trace absorbed m his work and her left yearning for more.
Of course, this time around it would be different since she had her own work and the four children to sustain her, but still, Susannah thought as she sank even deeper into the frothy bubbles, she would’ve thought Trace would do a little better, at least until after she had a wedding ring on her finger again. But maybe this was exactly the kind of reality check she needed before the ceremony. Maybe this was what she needed to keep her from wallowing in self-pity and disappointment once more. Heaven knew, she didn’t want to set her expectations too high again, only to feel hurt and disillusioned.
No sooner had she made up her mind to proceed a little more cautiously where she and Trace were concerned, than there was a simultaneous flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder, and then the lights went out.
“Oh, no,” Susannah moaned, knowing from experience that when the electricity went out in the country, as it was wont to do during any kind of storm, it could be hours before it came on again.
“Susannah? You okay?” Trace shouted from the living room.
“Fine,” she shouted back.
Moments later, he appeared in the doorway, charging in like a white knight to the rescue, flashlight in hand. As the beam swept over her, highlighting the silky glow of her skin and the curves of her breasts, she flushed self-consciously, and sank a little lower in the bubbles.
“I wonder if the lights went out at the lake house, too,” she murmured.
“Probably.” Trace let his glance trail over her lazily. “Our telephone line is out, as well—it cut me off midconversation—and we can’t use the cell phone during the storm, but I’ll see if I can get the boys on the shortwave radio.”
Moments later, he returned, looking supremely happy and relaxed. “I got through. Gillian says everything is fine, though their lights and telephone are also out.” He grinned. “They think it’s a hell of an adventure.”
Susannah could imagine. “Thank heavens Gillian is there with them,” she murmured, unspeakably relieved.
“Even if she weren’t, I think they would do okay,” Trace said confidently as his glance roved her with male appreciation. “But you’re right, it is a relief, knowing we have an adult there to watch over them.”
Trace strode back out. She presumed to finish his business via shortwave radio this time.
Seconds later, he returned, carrying a silver bucket and tray. Susannah gaped as he shucked his pajama pants, poured them both a second glass of champagne and climbed in opposite her. There was something to be said for the lights going out, the phone lines being down and business being made impossible, after all, she thought.
“You look surprised,” Trace noted as he settled opposite her.
Susannah sipped her champagne and relaxed against the curved back of the tub. “I am.”
She’d swept her hair up off the back of her neck. Tendrils escaped to frame the heat-flushed contours of her oval face. The candlelight cast a luminous glow over her damp, silky skin. Excitement glimmered in her dark eyes. She knew they were going to make love again, Trace thought with satisfaction, and she wanted the intimacy as much as he did. Just as she—like hewanted this relationship of theirs to work.
He smiled and drank deeply of his own champagne. “I decided the power and phone going off when they did was a sign, probably from Uncle Max. Business can wait, Susannah.” Trace set aside his glass and hers and leaned forward to take her in his arms and give her a champagne-flavored kiss. “This can’t.”
Trace picked up a bath sponge and drew the soap across it, once, twice. He transferred the soap to her skin. She sucked in her breath as the bubbles floated across her shoulders, down her back, over her rib cage to her breasts.
“Nor can this.” She picked up the soap, lathered her palms and spread them across his chest, her nimble fingers ghosting over his skin until fire flowed through him in undulating waves.
Trace smiled as he abandoned the sponge in lieu of his hands. “Sometimes the simplest way is best.” He found the insides of her thighs beneath the water and spread soap across them, too.
Susannah sucked in her breath. “Trace.”
“Feel good?”
She lathered her hands again and with soft, gliding motions, transferred the soap to the insides of his thighs. “Does this?”
Trace groaned and shuddered in response as she sudsed the rest of him, too. ‘You know it does.” Scooting her closer so she was astride him, he soaped his way down her back, past the nip of her waist, to the curves of her hips. Holding her securely across his thighs, he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, transferring all their earlier uncertainty into the kind of desire that took hours and hours of steady, sensual lovemakmg to satisfy. His hands skimmed upward to cup her breasts as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I could stay like this all evening,” he murmured contentedly.
So could she, Susannah thought. Her smile curved against his. “The water might get cold,” she warned as a deep warmth spread through her.
“Not with the k
ind of heat we’re generating, it won’t.” He wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he cupped her buttocks and kissed her with gathering urgency. She had meant to hold off, to make it last and last, but the minute his fingers found her, she took off into a thousand shimmering sensations. And as the feelings swept her, as he lifted her and moved deep inside her once again, she knew no one would ever make her feel the way he did.
Trace surged inside her knowing if they made love all night long it would never be enough. The desire he felt for Susannah was unlike anything he had ever known, as was the soft, sensual feel of her mouth melding to his. Her body still pulsing with reaction, she wrapped her arms around him, silently offering him anything he wanted, needed. And what he needed, Trace thought as she cradled his head between her palms, kissing his face and then his throat, was her. Only her. And then he was over the edge, too. Exploding in a searing flash that hurtled them both into the sweetness of oblivion, into the sweetness of being together once again.
And when the tremors stopped, Trace gently kissed Susannah, dried her off, carried her to the bed and started all over again.
TRACE HELD Susannah close, long after the tremors from their last bout of lovemaking had subsided. She slept, her head against his chest, her body curled against his. It had been years since he had felt so content, yet he was worried, too. He knew Susannah loved him, just as he loved her, even though they had yet to say the words, but he had only to look into her eyes to see how wary she still was. He knew he had failed her once in not being there the way she needed him, when she needed him. He didn’t want to do so again.
Chapter Ten
9:07
Susannah woke to the sound of Trace’s voice. She couldn’t make out most of the words, but she knew from the disgruntled sound of his low voice that whatever he was dealing with was not good news. Alarmed, she sat up against the headboard. The rain had stopped an hour or so before. The first light of dawn was filtering in beneath the bedroom drapes. “What’s going on?” she asked as soon as he had turned off his cell phone and come back into the bedroom to join her.
Clad only in his silk boxers, Trace sat down beside her. Though it was only a little past six in the morning, and the two of them had been up most of the night making love over and over again, he had already showered and shaved. His hair was slicked back. The scent of soap clung to his skin. He looked sexy, and to her disappointment, preoccupied.
“I finished the calls I was unable to make last night. There’s no way everyone can get out to the ranch this morning to sign the papers on the Farraday deal, so we’ve changed the site to the Fort Benton Gentlemen’s Club. Not to worry. The meeting is still on for 9:00 a.m. That’ll give us plenty of time to make it back here for the ceremony.”
Susannah blinked, wondering where she fit into this, even as she cleared her mind of sleep. “Us?”
“It’ll take more than thirty minutes just to get to town and back,” Trace explained, pouring her a cup of coffee from the carafe on a tray. Their hands touched as he stirred a lavish amount of cream into the aromatic brew and fit the mug into her cupped hands. “Because of Max’s will, you’ll have to go with me.”
It was their wedding day. And Trace was concerned mainly about business. Susannah pushed aside her disappointment and struggled not to feel resentful as she sipped the delicious coffee. This deal was important to Trace, she reminded herself sternly, and he had told her last night he intended to sign those sale papers today. “I want to take the boys with us,” she cautioned, taking another long enervating sip. She felt they had neglected the children enough the past twenty-four hours.
Trace quaffed his own coffee. “No problem,” he told her as she headed for the shower. “We’ll stop by to get them at the same time we pick up some business clothes.”
Half an hour later, they passed a telephone truck working to restore phone service to the area, and pulled into the lake house driveway. By the time they reached the rambling house, Gillian, alerted they were en route via Trace’s cell phone, was waiting for them on the front porch. As Susannah and Trace stepped from his Jeep, she smiled and reported, “The boys have already had cold cereal, fruit and milk—it’s all I could do to get them to sit still long enough to eat. I’ve got to get over to the logging-camp dining hall to supervise the breakfast shift.”
“Thanks for staying last night.”
“No problem.” Gillian looked relaxed and at ease. “It was fun.”
“Where are the boys now?” Susannah glanced around, surprised by the silence. There was no stereo blasting from the upstairs windows—though she might have Gillian to thank for that.
Gillian inclined her head in the direction of the backyard. “They’re looking over the tree branches knocked down by the storm last night. Listen, gotta run.
“Thanks again, Gillian,” Trace said.
As soon as Gillian took off, Trace and Susannah hurried around to the back. To their mutual dismay, the boys’ clothes were covered with a mixture of rainwater, mud and grass stains. To take them anywhere would require them all to shower first.
“Can we go see the white water?” Scott asked. “We heard on the shortwave this morning that the water is rising fast upstream from here.”
“Maybe later,” Susannah said.
“If we have time,” Trace added.
The boys’ faces reflected their collective disappointment.
“We have to go into town,” Susannah continued. “Trace has to sign some business papers.”
Nate grinned as he pushed his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Dad. The Farraday deal come through for you, after all?”
“Sure did,” Trace reported, looking equally pleased.
“Cool,” Jason said, giving Trace a high five.
“Yeah, cool,” Mickey parroted, also giving Trace a high five, though it was clear the eight-year-old had no idea what they were talking about.
“We were going to ask you guys to go with us,” Trace said. The high fives completed, he glanced at his watch. “But we’re on a tight schedule.”
Nate and Scott exchanged glances that were almost brotherly they were so telepathic.
“How long are you going to be gone?” Scott asked casually.
“Three, maybe four hours. We should be home by noon at the latest.”
The boys exchanged noncommittal looks. No one seemed upset about their parents’ slated absence. “No problem,” Scott said easily.
“We’ll stay here and clean up the branches in the yard,” Nate volunteered.
“And we’ll help,” Jason added, while Mickey nodded.
Again, Susannah had the sense that things were going almost too well. But Trace, his mind clearly on the business ahead of them, apparently picked up no such vibes. He glanced at his watch again. “They are still working on the phone lines, though I expect service will be restored soon. Meantime, you boys have your cell phone with you in case I need to reach you or vice versa?” Nate nodded and pulled the slim, folded telephone from his shirt pocket with the button flap. “Good,” Trace said with an approving smile. “Susannah and I will run up and change clothes. Then we’ll be on our way. Would you like us to bring you some lunch from town? Pizza or—”
“Pizza,” the boys said in unison.
“Okay then.” A hand already to her spine, Trace gently propelled Susannah in the direction of the house. “We’ll be back by noon,” he promised the boys.
8:20
SUSANNAH AND TRACE did not talk much on the way into town. He was on his cell phone with his attorney, going over the contract for the sale. And they were still talking when Trace parked in front of the Fort Benton Gentlemen’s Club, an elegantly preserved building in the historic district. Trace finished his conversation, and hung up the phone. “I’ll try to wrap this up as quickly as I can,” he promised.
Susannah nodded. The night before had been wonderfully romantic and satisfying. This morning was like a replay of their old harried life together, each of them
moving in different spheres. At least they would be, Susannah thought, as soon as the clause in Max’s will, forcing them to stick to each other like glue, expired.
“Keeping in mind Max’s stipulation we remain under one roof, I’ve arranged for you to have one of the private reading rooms on the second floor, while the meeting goes on in an adjacent conference room. But if you’d prefer to use our last thirty-minute time-out and go shopping in one of the stores here instead,” Trace suggested, aiming to please.
“No. The reading room will be fine,” Susannah said. Maybe there she could calm the jitters inside her.
Swift minutes later, she found herself cozily ensconced in the room just down the hall from Trace, Sam Farraday and their two attorneys. Trace had thoughtfully arranged for a stack of magazines and a continental breakfast to be sent to Susannah, but as she read the latest editions of Redbook, Newsweek and Bon Appetite, and then started on a second stack of magazines, her mind kept wandering to the boys. She was glad they were all getting along so well, but she missed them, and felt she and Trace hadn’t spent nearly enough time with them the past couple of days, under the circumstances. Deciding there was no time like the present to make up for that, and find out what the kids wanted on the pizza from town they had requested for lunch, which would need to be ordered soon if they were going to have it home by noon, as promised, she picked up the phone and dialed the lake house. She was relieved to find the house phone lines were up and running again. She let it ring a dozen times, hung up and dialed again. Still no answer. Remembering the boys had a cell phone with them outside, Susannah slipped back to the meeting room. She knocked, and when admitted, apologized for the interruption. Everyone frowned. Ignoring their dismay, she asked, “Trace, what is the number for the boys?”
The Maverick Marriage Page 16
