All I Need (Hearts of the South)

by Linda Winfree

  Her mother wrapped an arm around Savannah’s waist. “I’m glad he came with you, darling.”

  “Me too.” Not that he’d actually come with her, but still…he was here. As she watched, Rob gestured in their direction, waved toward the house, and detached himself from the group to speak to an approaching college friend. The other three walked to the front door, a cheerful conversation passing between Clark and Troy Lee before they disappeared in the house.

  Disappointment blended with an odd foreboding. He hadn’t even looked at her.

  She smiled through a myriad of family photos, then went in search of him. She found him on the back patio, he and Clark engaged in a casual conversation with her father. Her stomach plunged.

  “…work with Rob, sir.” Emmett glanced down as she stopped at his side. “Savannah and I live in the same apartment complex as well.”

  “What’s your role with the department?”

  “Currently, I serve as administrative support to the chief investigator.”

  Her father nodded. “Paperwork, then.”

  “Yes, sir. Lots of paperwork.”

  Savannah bristled at the reduction of what she knew he actually did to mere pushing of paper.

  “And what do you do, son?” Her father gestured at Clark with his glass. “Are you in law enforcement as well?”

  A wide grin creased Clark’s face. “I’m the best paramedic in Chandler County, sir.”

  Emmett made a disgusted sound in this throat. “Most arrogant paramedic is more like it.”

  “I saved your sorry life, remember?”

  Hands tucked in his pockets, Emmett rocked back on his heels. “The way I recall things, you were yelling at Mackey not to let me die because then you wouldn’t have anyone to sing with.”

  “Dude, you were basically bleeding out and in V-fib. You can’t remember that.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  The lightness grated on her nerves. She wanted to pull Emmett away somewhere private, get at what seemed to be off with him, and the three men wanted to indulge in chitchat.

  With an amused chuckle, her father lifted an eyebrow. “Musicians as well, then. Savannah, perhaps we should show them your piano. They might actually appreciate it.”

  Clark’s eyes took on a gleam. “You play the piano?”

  “No. I know how to play, but I don’t play.” She patted her father’s arm. “Someone forced me to take thirteen years of lessons.”

  “I can relate.”

  “She sings as well.” The same old pride swelled her father’s voice.

  “You sing?” Clark quirked a brow.

  “No.”

  “How do you live without music?” Clark rubbed his palms together. “Show me this piano.”

  Her father led the way to the living room, and as Emmett fell into silent step next to Clark and waved her ahead of them, she had little choice but to comply. Maybe he was nervous here, but this was ridiculous. Her unease flared into irritation and the beginnings of a stormy mood.

  Inside, Clark stared at the gleaming instrument. He shifted his gaze to her, mouth open.

  “Woman, what is wrong with you? You have an antique Mason & Hamlin, and you don’t play it? That’s like having a Maserati in the garage and refusing to drive it because someone made you take driver’s ed.” He turned to her father. “Can I play it?”

  “Go ahead. I keep it in tune, just in case.” He settled into his favorite chair. “It’s been too long since there was music in this house.”

  Clark took the bench and rippled his fingers across the keys with a reverent touch. The rich notes filled the room. “My God, it’s like a musical orgasm.”

  He coaxed Canon in D from the instrument, and the gorgeous sounds attracted people to the room. Amy sat in the other plush chair, and Rob propped on the arm, Hamilton nestled in his strong hold. Her mother, grandmother, and cousins took the couch. Savannah remained standing in front of Emmett, Troy Lee stopping at his side.

  Clark drew the piece to a close. He nodded at Emmett. “Hey, Em, come sing with me.”

  She sensed his slight hesitation, but Troy Lee’s hand at his shoulder prodded him forward. He assumed a falsely relaxed posture, hands in his pockets as he approached the piano to sit next to his friend.

  Clark chuckled. “If you’ll play, he’ll sing.”

  She wouldn’t even begin to know what to play. Clark rolled out the first notes of the gorgeous ballad from the night before, but Emmett shook his head. “No, not that one. Pick something else.”

  The melody Clark chose was edgier, with a more aggressive pulse to it, and eyes closed, Emmett sang of darkness and isolation, of hiding and hurting. The lyrics pulled a raw power from his voice, and her throat ached, the room narrowing to only the two of them and the music.

  Rather than ending the piece, Clark segued into a subdued, slow praise song, and Emmett followed without missing a beat. The change in tune and topic lightened the tension on his face, relaxing his expression, although his eyes remained closed.

  As the notes faded away, Clark caressed the piano top. “I want to take it home with me.”

  Opening his eyes on a chuckle, Emmett slanted a grin at him. “You aren’t right.”

  Her father thanked them, and light conversation hovered over those gathered in the room. Frustration tightened her chest again, mingling with the slight panic. All she wanted was a few minutes alone with him, and he appeared perfectly content to remain where he was, chatting with Clark and Rob, her father occasionally joining in.

  As her cousins drifted away, her grandmother motioned her near and took her hand, settling Savannah next to her on the sofa. Grandmother stroked her hair with the gentle touch she remembered from childhood, and she rested her head against the older woman’s shoulder, letting the repetitive caress ease away the stress. The drone of conversation around her, she allowed her lashes to fall. The weariness seemed overwhelming.

  When she woke, late-afternoon sunlight colored the room. The house sat quiet and peaceful around her, and she blinked, disoriented. A cashmere throw covered her, and the wool-clad male thigh under her cheek was a far cry from her grandmother’s shoulder. She was intimately acquainted with the muscles of that leg, and she knew beneath the smooth fabric, right under her cheek, ran a long, thin surgical scar next to the ragged mark of a gunshot entry wound.

  With a gentle finger, he tucked her hair behind her ear and laid aside a book, one of her father’s myriad biographies. She sat up, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. “How long have I been asleep?”

  He rotated his wrist to check his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

  “What?” Horrified, she grabbed his arm to see for herself. She covered her eyes with one hand. “Oh, my God, I will never live this down.”

  “There’s nothing to live down. You work hard, we didn’t get a lot of sleep last night—not that anyone here knows that but us and Clark—and your grandma put you out faster than Bennett does that baby. If it were a problem, I’m pretty sure someone would have woken you up.”

  She wasn’t sure which was worse—sleeping through a family event, realizing Clark Dempsey knew the details of her sex life, or waking up with her head in Emmett’s lap when he’d barely said two words to her all day.

  With her luck, Jen had captured that for posterity, as well.

  “You don’t understand.” She pulled the throw over her legs and tucked her feet under her. Where were her shoes? “Have you met my father? There are expectations for how one is to conduct oneself—”

  “Your dad loves you and is proud of you. Anybody can see that.” He shook his head. “That’s huge and it trumps possibly violating some family code of conduct.”

  Why were they even discussing this? What she really wanted to know was why he’d been so removed all day. She frowned. “Are you regretting last night?”

  “Last night was amazing. I’d never regret being with you like that.” Voice lowered, he tossed a look over his shoulder at
the hallway to the dining room. “Today I needed to think through some things.”

  “And you couldn’t do that on the way over with me?”

  “No.” A half-smile hitched up one corner of his mouth. “You tend to interfere with my ability to think straight. Besides, Clark’s pretty good at helping me see the big picture. ”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you tell him everything?”

  “Not…everything.” He chuckled and laid his arm along the back of the couch. “But most things, yeah. It’s mutual, though. Think of it like you talking to your sister.”

  “My sister does not know we’re sleeping together.”

  “Considering how she’s been looking at me all day like she knows what Santa brought you for Christmas, I think she’s a good guesser.” He leaned in, mouth close to hers. “Her and your grandma both.”

  Impossibly glad to have him nearer to normal, she closed the distance between them. Against her mouth, his lips were warm and pliable, and she curled her hand around his nape, holding him to her. He lifted a hand to cup her shoulder, fingers sliding along the bare skin of her upper arm.

  “Savannah,” he murmured against her mouth, “I don’t think I want your dad to catch us making out on the couch.”

  “Where is everyone?” She dropped her face into the curve of his neck and inhaled the mingling of aftershave, starch, and his unique maleness. She slipped one hand inside his jacket to rest below his ribs. “If he’s retreated to his study, we’re probably safe from getting caught.”

  “Your mom, sister, and grandmother are in the dining room with Bennett, opening gifts, I think. Clark bailed on me and left when Troy Lee did, so apparently you have to drive me home.” He rested his cheek against her hair and moved his fingers down her arm in a slow caress. “Your dad disappeared down the hall earlier after everyone left.”

  “Definitely hiding in his study. He can only socialize for so long.” She pulled back to look into his eyes and slid her hand up and down his side, seeking the ticklish spot between his ribs. “So we’re safe.”

  “Behave.” He caught her hand with his, a hint of laughter lighting his eyes. “We’re not doing this the very first time I’ve been in your parents’ house.”

  “I guess we should go ooh and aah over baby gifts.”

  “You sound awful enthused about that.”

  “Oh, Hamilton’s great, and I’m thrilled for Amy and Rob, but I don’t get the appeal.” She shook her head. Becoming parents had been the one place she and Gates had differed, and finally they’d agreed to table the topic until they’d been married a couple of years. “I am never having children.”

  “We’re in agreement there. I can pass on eighteen years of being afraid I’ll screw someone up for life.”

  “So you weren’t joking last night about having had a vasectomy?”

  “No. I had it done last year, about a month before the shooting.” An irritable frown drew his brows together. “You would not believe how long it took me to convince the urologist I was serious and wasn’t going to change my mind later. He kept trying to tell me I’d find some young woman, settle down, and regret having it done. Not happening. I am not cut out to be anybody’s dad, and I know it.”

  The raw honesty had to be one of the sexiest things she’d ever experienced. She smiled and leaned into him. “You realize this conversation makes me want to do way more than make out with you on this couch.”

  He kissed her, hard, and rose. He extended a hand. “Later, when we get home. Right now, let’s go ooh and aah over baby stuff we don’t get.”

  Keeping their hands linked, she led him to the formal dining room, which sure enough looked like a baby-rama. The room sounded like one too, as Hamilton was fully awake and not happy about it. Rob cradled her against his shoulder, pacing the length of the room and patting her small back while she fussed and grumbled.

  Savannah caught Emmett’s eye, and he grinned. He leaned one shoulder against the doorway and released her hand.

  “You think the kid has enough clothes?” Savannah lifted one small dress from the stack of garments. The white cotton had yellow flowers embroidered across the smocked front.

  “Listen, some days she goes through as many wardrobe changes as we did for pageants.” Amy laughed and slid her fingernail under the tape on a brightly wrapped package. She lifted the top from the small garment box and parted the tissue paper. A smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Oh, that’s cute.”

  She held up a sleeper with “Daddy’s Little Girl” embroidered on the chest.

  “Who is it from, dear?” Their grandmother waited, pen poised over the notebook where she was recording gifts and givers.

  Amy pulled a vellum rectangle from the tissue paper and stilled, her mouth going tense and taut. Rob stopped midstep, his gaze on her face. His eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “It’s from Jake Stringham.” She dropped the sleeper and card back in the box and pushed it away. “That’s just weird.”

  Their mother glanced up at Rob. “He was one of your groomsmen, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” The syllable emerged edgy and tight.

  “You’re friends with Jake Stringham?” Surprise colored Emmett’s voice behind her.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Good. The guy’s a total a—” Emmett coughed. “Um, jerk. GSP let him go a few months back after some incidents, and he hired on at the EMS station a couple of months ago after he recertified as an EMT. They put him in an ambulance with Nikki Pantone for a probationary period. He lasted about a week.”

  Rob’s entire posture went impossibly rigid. “He’s in Chandler County?”

  “Yeah. None of the local agencies will touch him, and he’s working in the guard shack out at McGee’s.”

  “Great.” Rob rubbed a hand over his mouth. He held Hamilton with the other, fingers splayed protectively across her back. “Just…great.”

  “Rob, it’s probably nothing.” Amy shook her head. She cast a skeptical glance at the gift box. “Maybe it’s a peace offering.”

  Rob and Emmett produced matching sounds of male disparagement. Rob pointed at the present. “I don’t care what you do with it, but don’t you ever put it on my daughter.”

  “No,” Amy agreed, her voice small.

  Despite their best efforts, the interlude left a shadow on an otherwise bright day. They passed the rest of the afternoon, finishing ooh-ing and aah-ing over baby gifts and finally leaving close to sunset. During the drive home, Emmett dozed off near Thomasville, and Savannah cast occasional glances at him, face relaxed in slumber. She flexed her fingers over the wheel, her ring finger not feeling as oddly empty as it had for months.

  When she pulled into the parking lot of their complex, darkness hovered, broken by security lights. She killed the engine and rested a gentle hand on his knee. “Emmett.”

  He roused, blinking, and scuffed a hand across his eyes. “Hey. Sorry.”

  “For what?” She circled his knee with her fingertips.

  “Falling asleep on you like that.”

  “No problem.” She smiled, still caressing his knee. “We’ve both had a catnap, so we should be rested.”

  “Yeah?” He grinned and shifted in the seat. “We might just have to find something to do.”

  “Definitely.” She pulled her keys from the ignition and pushed the door open. He retrieved his phone from the console and tapped a quick text, one she knew without asking was to Landra. After a reply blipped on his phone, he met her at the sidewalk and grabbed her hand to pull her into a loose embrace. Her arms about his neck, she walked backward, drawing him toward her door. “As much as I like you in that suit, I really want to get you out of it.”

  A lazy smile hitched up the corners of his mouth, and he played his hands over the small of her back. “I can arrange that.”

  Keys in hand, she spun to unlock the door. He lowered his head to deliver a small love bite to the curve where her shoulder met her neck, and she laughed, her hands sh
aking too much to get the key in the lock. She leaned back into him a moment, desire a deep ache between her thighs. “You realize with the vasectomy, I can test us, and if everything comes back clean, we can dispense with the condoms. Imagine the spontaneity.”

  He groaned, hips canted into her ass. “How soon can we make that happen?”

  “Like tomorrow.” She managed to get the door open, and in the hallway, he backed her against the wall. Hands flat on the wall above her head, he leaned in and took her mouth. She opened her lips and sucked at the tip of his tongue. His groan vibrated through her, and he pressed in, deepening the kiss.

  Still kissing her, he fought free of his jacket and pulled his tie off, both garments hitting the floor. Laughter and desire fizzing in her, she worked the buttons on his shirt free. “You should hang that up so it doesn’t get wrinkled.”

  “It can go to the cleaners.” He trailed his lips along her jaw to find the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Parting his shirt, she pulled his undershirt free of his waistband and rubbed her thumbs over the indentations of his abs, his skin hot beneath her touch. He ran his hands beneath her dress, cupped her thighs, and lifted her against him. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did, laughter spilling free as he carried her down the hall. “Are you sure you should be doing this? Your leg—”

  “Is completely okay for me to do this.” He flexed his hands against her skin. “I told you, I won’t let you fall. I’m not going to drop you, either.”

  In the bedroom, he let her slide along his body so she stood before him. She pushed his shirt down his arms, and he shrugged free of it, his own hands seeking her zipper. Her dress hit the floor and she stepped free. He made short work of her bra and cupped her breasts in warm palms. A lazy smile played about his mouth. “Tonight, you can leave the shoes on.”

  With him thumbing her nipples and desire strumming through her, she couldn’t think of a smartass reply. Instead, she lifted her mouth to his, tangling their tongues together, and reached for his belt. He released her long enough to shed his slacks, then returned to making her crazy for him. Still molding her breasts, he backed them toward her bed.