“I know,” he said as he returned to her lower back and continued to work out the kinks.
Abby barely suppressed a groan of contentment. “Tad...” she said as a wave of longing swept through her. Her limbs felt heavy and weak.
“Hmm?” Tad sounded totally absorbed in his work as he made his way down her legs.
“That’s not my back.”
“Oh.” Tad’s hands moved upward. “So it isn’t,” he said mischievously.
Abby smiled and arched against the playful wandering of his hand. “That’s not my back, either.”
Giving up on the massage altogether, Tad rolled her onto her back. He looked down at her with such intensity she caught her breath. The next thing she knew their mouths were locked in a searing kiss and he was stretched out on the bed beside her. “I forgot to tell you something,” he murmured as he divested her of her gown and dizziness swept through her in waves.
“What?” Abby gasped.
He drew all of her against all of him. He kissed her cheek, her nose, her temple, then buried his face in her hair. “When I smell that perfume of yours, I get sidetracked very easily.”
Abby kissed his throat. Her fingers slid through the silky mat of hair on his chest, then lower, to the waistband of his low-slung pajama pants. “I’m not wearing any perfume.”
Tad smiled. “My point exactly.”
One kiss turned into twenty as they touched and tempted and teased, putting everything they had, everything they wanted, into their caresses. Until all that mattered to either of them was the desire sweeping through them both in powerful waves, and he was straining against her, letting her know he wanted her as wildly as she wanted him. And she wanted him that way, all fire and passion, nothing secret, nothing from their pasts, nothing from their future, standing between them.
His kisses were just as sweet, just as filled with longing. As their ragged breaths meshed, Tad taught her what it was to love, not just with hearts and souls, but through touch. He taught her she was just as insatiable as he, that it was better to let their passion build and build. He skimmed her body with his fingers, filling his hands with her soft hot flesh. Then threaded his hands through her hair, pushing it away from her ear, and kissed and caressed his way down her neck. She knew he wanted her just as she wanted him, and she also knew, as he drew back to look at her, his blue eyes alight with unbearably tender protectiveness, that, before they went any farther, he had something to ask.
“Just out of curiosity, Ab—” his voice was rough, filled with the longing for more and the equally important need to know “—are we going to have to stop making love at some point?”
“Soon, yes,” Abby said breathlessly as Tad kissed the taut aching crowns of her breasts and the graceful slope of her tummy. “We won’t be able to have intercourse. But for right now, for at least the next two weeks,” she said as he slid upward, “we can, um...”
“Do this?” Tad guessed as he sat against the headboard, took her with him and lifted her ever so gently, ever so carefully, onto his lap. As she faced him, he delicately, intimately caressed the inside of her thighs. Letting her know, despite the swollen curve of her belly, she was just as desirable—if not more desirable—to him than ever.
“Mm-hmm,” Abby confirmed as she shifted and made them one. “We can absolutely do this,” she said, knowing he was definitely the sexiest man she had ever met.
“Then we better make the most of it,” Tad said hoarsely, kissing her and cupping her breasts until she shuddered in response and her nipples beaded against his palms, “don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes,” Abby returned lovingly. Overcome with need and yearning, overcome by the tenderness he displayed, she took up the rhythm he started, merging their bodies as intimately and irrevocably as they’d begun to merge their lives. Afterward Tad cuddled her close. “I love you, Abby,” he whispered in her ear.
Abby’s eyes filled to overflowing. Maybe it was her pregnancy—the surge of hormones flowing through her—but she’d never felt so wanted, nor at the same time more vulnerable, as she did tonight. “I love you, too,” she whispered back, holding him close. So much.
The problem was, love had never really been the issue for them. They’d both easily confessed to falling in love with each other in Paris. That was why they’d gotten married immediately upon returning to the States.
The problem was, she knew—through bitter life experience—love alone, no matter how passionate or exciting, wasn’t always enough to hold a marriage together over the long haul.
There were times when love wasn’t nearly enough. She only hoped, desperately so, that this wouldn’t turn out to be one of those times.
Chapter Eleven
Abby stood at Tad’s elbow, watching anxiously, as he tried to insert a large pinecone into the small end of a rough-barked hom of plenty. “That’s the wrong end to be stuffing, isn’t it?”
Tad took the pinecone, inserted it in the other end, then added an unshelled walnut and bunch of grapes into the smaller opening of the Thanksgiving centerpiece.
Arms folded, head cocked to one side, he studied his “masterpiece” with a comic expression. “I think I know my cornucopias.”
Abby snorted and went to lower the volume of the football game on TV. “That’s what you said about the turkey,” she reminded him, returning to his side.
Tad shrugged. “So I got the neck and the...well, you know, mixed up.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “I’ll say!”
“It all turned out all right in the end.”
Yes, Abby thought, it had. In fact, this was the best holiday she’d had in ages. Tad wrapped an arm around her shoulders and teased, “Whoever would’ve thought you’d be standing around in our kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a meat thermometer.”
Until she’d met Tad, she’d been a career woman all the way. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” she murmured, disgruntled, glad Yvonne—who’d gone home to be with her own family for the holiday—wasn’t around to see this.
Tad appeared to consider it. “I could be bribed.” He gave her the look that made her blood heat.
Abby blushed as she thought about the many ways they had made love. “Really.”
“Really,” he said softly.
“What’s going on out here in the kitchen?” Sadie poked her head in.
“Exactly what you’d think,” Tad said, making Abby’s blush deepen. He picked up the turkey baster, put it in Abby’s hand and pointed it in the direction of his chest. “I’m being held hostage.”
“Absolutely true,” Abby agreed. “I’m not letting him out of here until the centerpiece is just right.”
“You’re having a good time?” Sadie beamed, pleased.
“Oh, yes,” Abby said as Tad pulled her close. “How are the puppies doing?”
“Great. They’re just starting to wake up. We thought you might want to come and see them.”
They all trooped into the mudroom behind the garage and peered into the quilt-lined whelping box Raymond had built for her. Buster was curled in the corner, carefully keeping watch. Belle was lying on her side, all six of her puppies cuddled up against her. As they woke up, they squirmed and began to nurse, making little mewling sounds.
“They are so cute,” Abby said.
“They’ve got the best of both parents,” Tad agreed.
A mixture of brown, black, white and buff-colored short fluffy hair covered their compact little bodies. Their faces were tiny and appealing, their ears long and drooping.
Raymond had loaded the box into the rear of his pickup and brought the crew to Tad and Abby’s for the day. Sadie was dizzy with delight, watching the new pups. “I don’t think she’s going to let you take the puppies back home with you,” Abby teased.
Tad nodded. “You, Belle, and the pups might just have to move in with Sadie and Buster,” he told Raymond, “so Aunt Sadie can keep an eye on them, too.”
“Actually,” Sadie said shyly as she and Raymon
d linked hands, “we’ve sort of addressed that issue.”
Raymond grinned. “I asked Sadie to marry me last night.”
Sadie held up her left hand, which sported a brand-new diamond ring. “And I said yes.”
“Congratulations.” Abby embraced them both in turn, and Tad followed suit.
“Have you set a date?” Tad asked, looking as happy as could be for his aunt.
“New Year’s Day,” Sadie said.
“WHAT ARE WE GOING to give Raymond and Sadie for a wedding gift?” Abby asked Tad one lazy Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks later as they sat in the family room, making wreaths out of pine boughs and red velvet ribbons.
Tad shrugged. “I don’t know. A triple leash?”
Abby gave him a look. “Very funny,” she told him in the soft playful voice he loved. “And we already got them one when the puppies were born.”
Tad paused to give it some serious thought. “How about tickets to the Charlotte Symphony and an overnight stay in a hotel there?” He looked at Abby for her reaction, knowing it was important they get this right, and that it be from the two of them. “They both like classical music.”
Abby smiled, as relieved as he was to have that problem solved. “That’s an excellent idea.”
“Now all we have to decide is a name for the baby.”
Instead of the groan Tad was expecting, Abby smiled a secret little smile. She put aside her wreath and came over to sit next to him. “I’ve been thinking about that. I have an idea.”
She was serious, Tad realized. “Go ahead.” They’d already discussed—and rejected at least once—every name, male and female, in the baby-name book they’d bought.
“I think the name of our first child should have sentimental value.”
First child. Tad liked the sound of that. Nothing would please him more than making more babies with Abby.
Abby took his hands in hers. “I was thinking of your brother. I’d like to name him William if the baby’s a boy, and Wilhelmina if it’s a girl. Will if it’s a boy. Billie if it’s a girl.”
Not so long ago he would have reacted vehemently to such a proposal, Tad knew. But now he seemed to have made peace with the past, more than he could ever have imagined doing. And he had Abby to thank. “I’d like that,” he said softly, looking deep into her eyes. “Very much.”
Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Good,” she said, smiling. “Me, too.”
They were silent a few minutes more. It was a good feeling, just sitting there together that way.
“So... any word from Yvonne?” Tad asked. She’d come back briefly after Thanksgiving, helped out a little more at the newspaper, then left again.
Abby shook her head. “Her interview with Personalities! magazine was on Friday. She was going to spend the weekend with friends in New York and then head back here on Monday or Tuesday.”
The phone rang. Abby got up to answer it. “Well,” she said, after greeting the caller affectionately, “speak of the devil.” As Tad listened, ebullient congratulations followed. “Of course we understand!” Abby exclaimed. “No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything. All right. Good luck to you—keep me posted. Right. I’ll see you on e-mail. Bye.” Her back to him, Abby put the phone down slowly.
Tad wondered uneasily what was going through Abby’s mind. Since the Chicago-magazine fiasco, Abby had not had any interviews. Mainly, Tad felt, because she had insisted the headhunter tell all prospective employers she was expecting a child at the end of January. Abby wanted no more mix-ups or thwarted expectations on either side. Tad respected her enormously for that.
Feeling the sudden need to hold her, he closed the distance between them. “Yvonne got the job?” he guessed, taking Abby into his arms.
Abby traced the swell of her tummy with the flat of her hand in a protective deeply maternal gesture. “As an assistant managing editor. She’s not coming back. They want her to start right away. I’m going to ship the things she left here back to New York.” Abby paused, for the first time, her own mixed feelings about her friend’s reentry into the magazine trade evident. Abby continued with a rueful smile, “Yvonne said to tell you she’s sorry about the short notice.”
Tad shrugged it off. “She always said it would be that way.” Abby had said the same thing. At the time he’d told himself he could handle it. Now that the possibility was nearing, he was not so certain of that. Not nearly so certain.
Abby stepped closer. She rested her hand on his chest. “You okay?”
Tad nodded. “Sure,” he said.
But inwardly he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And he was still thinking about it the next morning as he told the staff about Yvonne’s departure and they tried to figure out how to divvy up the workload and compensate for her leaving.
“Well, I’m happy for her,” Sonny said amiably, “but it’s really going to leave us scrambling. Every edition leading up to Christmas is going to be jam-packed with photos and details of holiday events.”
“Not to mention ads,” Cindy said, looking just as worried as her younger colleague. “We’ve got, on average, an additional five pages of advertisements. I think the only merchant in town not advertising with us is Joe Don Jerome.”
“His friend at the insurance agency isn’t advertising, either,” Raymond said.
“No. But Cullen is thinking about it,” Cindy replied. “I ran into him at the grocery store last night. He said the number of new homeowner, life and health policies he was writing was down ten percent since he’d stopped placing ads in our paper. The new business was all going to a competitor who was still advertising with us.”
“Nowell Haines told his wife the same thing,” Sadie said. “She advised him to bring his business back to the Blossom Weekly News, but he said he couldn’t.”
Tad looked thoughtful. “Their loss,” he said.
“I quite agree,” Abby said. She couldn’t believe that the Three Stooges, as Tad had dubbed the trio of businessmen, were still shooting themselves in the foot over Tad’s decision to include consumer reporting and troubleshooting in the paper.
“Who’s going to take over Yvonne’s slot as Features editor?” Cindy asked.
Tad sized her up. “Actually I was thinking about asking you and hiring someone else to take over the advertising department.”
Cindy beamed. “That would be great!”
“Can you sort of pull double duty until I get someone else in?” Tad asked. “I know it’s the holidays—”
“No problem.”
“Good. And speaking of holidays.” Tad stood and disappeared into his office. He returned a moment later bearing five red envelopes. “I wanted to give you all your Christmas bonuses early in addition to the fifteen percent across-the-board raises you’ll be getting as of January 1.”
He handed out the envelopes. “I also wanted to let you know I’ve decided to expand the paper so we can go daily by next summer.”
Another murmur of approval and excitement swept the group. “Furthermore,” Tad went on, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
The phone in his office rang. Still grinning from ear to ear, Cindy leaped up to get it. She returned promptly. “Tad, it’s for you.”
“Who is it?”
Cindy shrugged. “Some lady. She wouldn’t give her name. She just said it was imperative she talk to you.”
His expression concerned, Tad rose. When he came back, he had his jacket in hand. “I’ve got to go out for a bit,” he announced to one and all. “Hold down the fort for me?”
“Sure,” Raymond said.
“What was that about?” Sonny asked Abby.
Abby shrugged, hating to admit it, but feeling a little annoyed. “Darned if I know.”
“Should I be jealous?” Abby asked hours later when Tad finally returned to the newspaper. Everyone else was out to lunch. Having eaten a little earlier—she got light-headed these days if she went too long between meals—she’d stayed behind
to handle any walk-in business and the phones.
“Frustrated is more like it. That is, if you’re sharing my feelings,” Tad told her. He plucked their bagged lunch from the refrigerator in the coffee room and took Abby into his office to eat it.
She studied him curiously. “You were working on another troubleshooting story, weren’t you?”
Tad nodded. “The same one I’ve been working on since I took over the paper.”
“Joe Don’s car dealership.”
Tad unwrapped a turkey sandwich on rye and uncapped a thermos of piping hot minestrone soup. “Everyone complains about the quality of the cars, both new and used. And yet they still buy there because of the deal they can get.”
“At least at first.” Abby opened an individual carton of milk and peeled an orange for herself. “Then a lot of them go out of town to buy their cars.”
“Right. Anyway, I’ve been sort of nosing around quietly, exchanging car-repair horror stories with the locals. Whenever I hear about anyone having anything atrocious happening, I find a way to bump into them and bring it up ever so casually, see if they’ll talk about it. More often than not, they get this kind of scared look on their faces and clam up.”
Tad wasn’t the only one intrigued, Abby thought. Since he’d started investigating this in between all the many duties he had as owner, publisher and managing editor of the Blossom Weekly News, she’d become hooked, too. “That lady on the phone just now?” she prodded.
“An assistant over at the vet’s. She’s young, just out of high school, moved here from another town to start a life independent of her parents. The first thing she did was buy a used car from Joe Don.” Tad scowled. “Currently said car is sitting in front of the garage apartment where she lives. The thirty-day warranty ran out on it and she can’t afford to get it fixed. I tried to get her to talk about it the other day when I helped Sadie and Raymond take the pups to the vet for their checkup, but no go. I gave her my card, told her if she ever changed her mind, to give me a buzz—and she called this morning.”
Abby leaned forward, her pulse racing. “And?”
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