In Another Man’s Bed

by Francis Ray

  “That’s why I’m staying. I’ve run enough.” She stepped out of his hold.

  Dalton didn’t know what to make of her statement, but instinctively knew now was not the time to push. He took her to the only finished room in the house, and that was because of a minor miracle.

  Gone were the copper-tone appliances in the small kitchen, the cracked linoleum flooring, and pressed wood cabinets painted brown. Instead, pristine white appliances and cabinets gleamed. Five-inch mahogany molding was around the top of the walls, giving the kitchen a casual yet elegant look.

  The counter was sand-colored limestone. Track lighting marched down the center of the ceiling and a white ceiling fan with a copper light fixture hung over a butcher block table. Four cane-back chairs sat around it.

  “It’s wonderful.” She turned in a full circle. Beneath her feet was buff-colored tile. “How did you do this so fast?”

  “Luck. I was browsing in the store and overheard the salesman talking about a customer who had backed out on a kitchen remodeling job. I introduced myself, handed him my measurements, and asked if we could work a deal with some of the orders.” Dalton ran his hand across the shimmering backsplash, which was made of small iridescent tile. “We ended up helping each other out since I wanted this fast and he had merchandise he couldn’t use.”

  “You don’t need my help,” she said, and he thought he heard regret.

  “Don’t you believe it.” He leaned against the counter. “This was already picked out. All I did was hand the man my credit card. My sisters helped me with my house in Buckhead, but both work and can’t take off to drive down here. You are needed.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You saw the living room. I’d like to move out of the hotel next week, so the bathroom is the next big project. If I can decide what to do, the same firm can start next week.” He pressed his point. “I’d like it to be a house Mama and Daddy would be proud of. This place meant a lot to them and to me and my sisters.”

  “Roots are important.” She opened her purse and took out a pen and paper. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Keep that thought when I ask you to make decisions on paint, wallpaper, and a dozen other things.”

  “I will.” He went into the small bathroom, then the bedroom. “This was my parents’ room. I rented a bed and purchased some bedding until I can decide what to do.” Before she could get nervous again, he said, “Let’s go back to the kitchen. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes.”

  Waving her to a seat, he pulled a couple of Pepsis from the refrigerator, grabbed a couple of paper towels, and took a seat in front of her. She didn’t reach for the drink. “I went by your house the first Thanksgiving I came home from college.”

  That brought her head up. “You did?”

  “Your mother told me if I came back she’d send you to live with your grandmother permanently.” He reached over and opened her drink, then his. “I’d spoken to Brianna a couple of times and knew that although you liked your grandmother, you hadn’t liked it in Mississippi.”

  Her hands circled the can. “Brianna only said you called once.”

  “I asked her not to tell you about the rest.” He took a long swallow.

  “Why?” she questioned, her brows furrowed.

  “You weren’t the type to go against your mother, and that’s what it would have come down to.” They’d met in secret a couple of times, but it had bothered Justine, so he had picked her up at home with disastrous consequences.

  She sat back in her chair and stared down at her drink. “I was a coward then and now,” she said, utter misery in her quiet voice.

  He desperately wanted to reach out to her. “You aren’t. You care too deeply. You’d rather be hurt than hurt others.”

  Her head slowly lifted. His gaze went to her mouth, soft and trembling. His grip tightened on the can. “You game on helping me finish the porch?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Justine didn’t have any knowledge or experience repairing anything. Her mother always hired professionals. She also knew being in close proximity to Dalton when her emotions were so erratic was asking for trouble. Brianna knew this, and it was her none-too-subtle way of pushing Justine into facing the problem head-on.

  “Another one.” Dalton held his strong brown hand palm up and she placed a nail in it. “Thanks.”

  “Why didn’t you hire someone to do this as well?”

  “Because I get satisfaction out of knowing I helped bring this place back to life,” Dalton said, hammering the nail.

  Andrew had hired an architect to design the cabin. She’d given her input, picked out fixtures, appliances, and all the rest, but didn’t actually see the cabin until it was almost finished. Andrew said that was what they were paying the builder for. They had a house built. Dalton wanted to keep alive the home that meant love and devotion to his family.

  Justine handed Dalton another nail without his asking. He grinned up at her. “You’re getting good at this.”

  She watched the play of muscles on his back as he worked. Brianna was right, he was built. She remembered too clearly the ripple beneath her fingertips when they’d kissed. Justine moistened her lips. It was time to get her mind off Dalton and what his heated skin would feel like. “I don’t remember your sisters.”

  “They both have two kids, a boy and a girl each, about the same age. All of them are at Duke in premed.”

  She clasped the box of nails to her. She’d wanted children.

  He looked up at her and frowned. “What’s bothering you? I want to help,” he told her.

  She shook her head and handed him another nail. “No one can.”

  Accepting the nail, he began to hammer it in, then stopped and came to his feet. “Take this hammer and get out your frustrations. I know it worked wonders for me.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Yes.” Taking her hand, he pulled her off the porch so she didn’t have to kneel. When she didn’t move, he took her hand, closed it around the hammer, and hit the nail a couple of times.

  By the third nail she was crying. She couldn’t seem to stop. Dalton muttered something, then pulled her into his arms. Resistance never entered her mind. She just burrowed closer to his strength, his warmth. Picking her up, he sat down on the steps with her in his arms.

  “Let it go, Justine. Let it go.”

  As if being given permission, the muffled sounds became loud, gut-wrenching sobs. He continued to hold her in his arms, not asking questions, just rocking her as if she were a small child.

  Brianna stepped off the elevator and saw Patrick, his arms folded, leaning against the wall by her door. Her pulse skipped. He straightened, his dark gaze watching her intently as she continued down the hall.

  She stopped a few safe feet away. “This stops now.” She meant the words to be stern, but they were soft and underlined with yearning.

  “I agree.” He closed the distance between them. Heat and desire arced between them like an electric current. His eyes darkened, his nostrils flared.

  “Back off.”

  “I don’t seem to be able to do that. Have you ever wondered how I show up where you are?”

  Her eyes widened. “You’ve been following me?”

  “Occasionally, but I also asked the security guard to let me know when you came home.”

  Brianna’s mouth tightened. “I don’t like being spied on.”

  He gave one curt nod. “I disliked asking Toni those leading questions even more. She had no idea. Time for truth or consequences.”

  “You got that right,” Brianna said. Toni was the security guard in the afternoon when Brianna came home. She was pretty, single, funny. Brianna didn’t imagine Patrick would have much difficulty getting her to help him with his plan. She liked her. “You tricked her, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tell the management.”

  “I’m c
ounting on that compassionate heart of yours, and that deep down you know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  His thumb grazed her lower lip, causing her to shiver. “I would.”

  Batting his hand away, fighting the sudden heat in her belly and the desire in her body, she whirled and unlocked the door. “Good-bye.”

  The flat of his hand stopped the door from closing in his face. “I have dinner reservations for eight at Circa 1886. Before you answer, I want you to know that if the answer is no, I won’t ask again.”

  Disappointment hit her. Her chin lifted. “That’s good to hear.”

  “If I thought you meant that I would have given up long ago. I don’t.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.”

  His eyes hardened for the first time. “If you need to be angry with anyone, let it be me.” His hand fell and he straightened. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the restaurant waiting.”

  She closed the door. Patrick was out of her life for good. She just wished she felt happier about it.

  Seventeen

  Brianna tried to keep from looking at the mantel clock in the great room, but couldn’t quite pull it off. She’d called Justine’s home and gotten the machine. A call to her cell went into voice mail. A short time later she’d gotten a strange call from Dalton saying Justine was all right and not to worry. He’d hung up before she could ask anything else.

  At 7:35 her phone rang again. She just knew it was Patrick. He was too persistent to give up. Her heart thumped pleasantly. Perhaps she’d let him talk her into going out with him. What could dinner hurt?

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Ms. Ireland. This is Toni.”

  “Toni?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Patrick left ten minutes ago by himself. He came by to apologize.”

  Apologizing wasn’t high on the list of most men. It gave Patrick a point, but it didn’t excuse him, Brianna thought.

  “With all the women after him, you’re the first one since he’s been here that he’s taken an interest in.”

  “How would you know that?” Brianna asked, aware that she’d gone from being indignant to edging close to being jealous.

  Toni laughed. “Because my fiance is a policeman. Patrick has had us up to his place for dinner and taken us out on his boat. You’d be surprised at the things women have done to get him to notice them. One even stowed away on his boat. Most nights, if he’s not at his niece’s, he’s at home.”

  “So why did you give him information on me?”

  There was a long pause. “My fiance is always telling me I talk too much, but, as I said, you’re the first woman Patrick has showed any interest in since he left the force. Any of us would have done anything to help after what happened to him.”

  A chill raced down Brianna’s spine. “What happened to him?”

  Another pause. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, my bad. I told you I talked too much. Ronnie always says I do. I have to run. I just wanted you to know that Patrick is a stand-up kind of man. Good night.”

  Brianna was left listening to a dial tone with a lot of questions. There was one place she could get the answers. By leaving Justine with Dalton, Brianna had forced her best friend to face her fears. Could she do the same?

  ________

  At 8:38 Patrick accepted the truth, Brianna wasn’t coming. The restaurant stopped serving at nine. He had gambled and lost. Getting help from Toni hadn’t set well with either of them. He was the straightforward type and admired honesty and truthfulness. Obtaining information behind Brianna’s back wasn’t the way to handle things. But what was?

  Sitting at the table in the posh restaurant, he felt as if he were on display. Around him couples were dining and happily chatting. He’d glanced surreptitiously at the other tables and wanted to sink lower in his chair. He was the only one alone.

  The waiter for his table was probably tired of coming up and asking if he were ready to order or wanted to continue to wait for his guest. There had been compassion in the older man’s gaze, as if to say she’s not coming, you poor fool, so order already and stop embarrassing yourself.

  He lifted his hand to signal the waiter for the check and saw Brianna. She looked stunning in a little black dress that clung to her glorious body as if it had been poured on. The creation stopped a good five inches above the knees, the backs of which he had dreamed of kissing. Her hair was piled on top of her head in flirtatious curls that made his hands itch to let down and to run his fingers through.

  The waiter reached the table a few steps in front of her. “The check, or are you ready to order?”

  “White wine.”

  The waiter jerked his head around. His jaw became unhinged. Patrick couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he got up from the table to hold Brianna’s chair. “Please bring the lady her drink, then give us a few minutes.”

  Brianna sat, placing her small jeweled clutch on top of the table covered with white linen. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” Patrick took his seat, then grew serious. “I want to apologize for invading your privacy. It won’t happen again.”

  “If I didn’t believe that I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Your drink,” the waiter said, gushing for all he was worth.

  Patrick shook his head as the smitten man moved away. “Before you came, he was ready to toss me out.”

  “Then you owe me one.” She picked up the menu.

  “I’m more than willing to pay,” he said, his voice dropping lower.

  Brianna lowered the menu. “I just bet you are.”

  Patrick laughed. He didn’t know what had gotten her to change her mind, but he was grateful she had. The waiter came and took their orders. Life had certainly taken a marvelous upswing.

  Brianna had a wonderful time at dinner, and later dancing at a small club. Besides liking the water, they both liked old movies, shared similar taste in music. They both agreed that Louis Armstrong was the greatest trumpet player who ever lived.

  Back at her place, Brianna unlocked her door. “Thank you for a wonderful time.”

  Patrick braced his hand on the door jamb above her head. “I’ll pick you up at nine for brunch at the marina restaurant, then we’ll take the boat out.”

  “Nine it is.” She was actually looking forward to it, but not as much as the good-night kiss she knew was coming when Patrick’s head descended.

  The first touch set her body afire. She went from simmer to explosive. She heard the door close as if from a distance.

  “Brianna,” Patrick breathed. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  She felt the same way. Her mouth sought him. His large hand cupped her breast, then his fingers plucked the pebbled nipple. She whimpered as need pulsed through her.

  She felt herself falling and clutched Patrick closer. Her back pressed against something soft, the mattress. Her mind said “wait,” but when his hand cupped her hips, pressing her against his rock-hard arousal, her body was of an entirely different response. Enjoy.

  She did as he loved her with equal parts of tenderness and ferocity. She was caught up in a whirlwind of passion. Clothes were hastily stripped away. After he sheathed himself, he brought them together with one powerful thrust. Her body arched, her legs wrapped around him.

  The rhythm was fast as he measured the hot length of her, wringing cries of pleasure from her lips. He took her to a place she had never been before, pure passion, pure ecstasy. She felt herself spinning out of control, hurtling toward release.

  She buckled, cried out his name when she came. Before she could come down, he was sliding in and out of her body, taking her up once again.

  “Come with me, Brianna.” She would have followed him anyplace, her body his to command, to pleasure. This time they came together. Sated, she curled against him and slept.

  ________

  When Brianna surfaced from the
sensual haze, she was curled up against the muscled warmth and hardness of Patrick’s body. She stiffened as shock swept through her. She’d never acted so irresponsibly.

  Angry at herself, she tried to push out of his arms. His hold tightened; his lips brushed against her damp forehead.

  “Get up and get out.”

  “No. I’m not leaving. This was quick for both of us, but it’s been coming for a long time.”

  Brianna didn’t want to listen to him. But she too had suspected from almost the first that he’d be one man who would change the rules. “Let me go.” She pushed against his chest, his stomach, then stilled as she felt the rough ridge beneath her hand.

  His body momentarily stiffened, then he released her. Brianna quickly sat up and stared at the place her hand had been. The scar was very long and ugly. Her stomach rolled.

  “W-what happened?”

  “I got in the way of a drug dealer’s bullet.”

  Her head snapped up. He’d said the words so calmly, but his eyes weren’t. They were dark with painful memories. She couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine what he had gone through.

  “The doctor was ticked about the scar tissue forming. Messed up his work, he said.”

  Brianna’s gaze helplessly drifted back to the scar.

  “If it bothers you, I’ll put my shirt on.”

  All she could think of was the pain he must have endured. “You could have died,” she said, her voice hushed and strained.

  “No, I couldn’t, because I hadn’t met you yet.”

  With a cry, Brianna hugged and kissed his face. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.”

  “That’s what I thought when I first saw you.”

  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. His large hand brushed her hair from her face. “That I’d never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

  “Patrick.” She melted in his arms, then trailed kisses over his chest, his taut stomach, the scar.

  With a hiss, he rolled her over. His dark eyes stared into hers. “My turn.”