by Nancy Gideon
My God, it was wonderful!
All too soon, reality trickled back into her consciousness. She could feel the crushed nap of the carpet under her, the damp mat of MacCreedy’s hair as his chest rose and fell. They were lying side by side, her head on his outflung arm. His heart pounded beneath her palm like thunder.
“Holy shit,” she whispered as she began the incredible effort of opening her eyes.
“Holy shit,” MacCreedy groaned beside her. His hand covered hers and they lay like that for several more minutes. He stirred at the sound of her husky chuckle, rolling onto his side, looking dazed and sweaty and gorgeous.
Hers.
That realization blossomed beautifully inside her.
“I am so glad you didn’t let me kill you,” she murmured with a lazy smile.
“I’m kinda happy about that myself.” He leaned down to kiss her softly.
“I hope this experience was more pleasant than your first,” Nica teased, sucking lightly at his lips.
“You inspired me to great heights of passion,” he assured her, tongue flickering against hers until their kiss deepened.
Nica laughed again, her gaze lost in his. “You’re still inspired, lover.” Her admiring touch stroked over that apparent truth. “Should we take advantage of it?”
He kissed her tenderly before he whispered, “I’m thinking shower, bed, and lots more sex.”
“My hero,” she purred in surrender.
As thick, relaxing steam filled the bathroom, they washed each other behind the wall of glass. MacCreedy tended the already healing wounds in her shoulder, their significance filling him with a dizzying sense of possessiveness and devotion. He kissed her there, tenderly, then her mouth lavishly, until he’d backed her against one of the granite shower walls. Under the double rain forest shower heads, he drew her knee up over his hip so he could take her again more slowly.
And again as they were drying off. He cleared the edge of the sink with a sweep of his arm and set her there for another enthusiastic coupling, as hot and steamy as the room.
By the time they sank into the soft embrace of the bed, it was almost morning.
Silas cradled Nica in his arms, the feel of her so perfect and right he wasn’t sure he could ever let her go. Her face was pressed into his shoulder, her body was trembling, and he felt the hot dampness of tears against his skin.
“You came,” she whispered hoarsely.
He smiled into her fragrant hair. “Yes, I did. More than once. Thank you.”
Her chest hitched almost painfully. “You picked the lock on my door.”
“I’d have torn down the wall,” he said huskily.
She fell silent, kneading the back of his neck and his upper arm with unspoken anxiousness. Finally she asked, “What happens now?”
Exhausted, yet so satisfied he couldn’t stop touching her, he stroked the long velvety line of her back. “I’m moving in with you. I love this bed, that shower, the rug in the living room, and the company.”
“What happens to us?” she asked after a pause.
Us. He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, emotions swelling up so quick and full, it took him a moment to speak.
“I’m staying here in New Orleans. I have my job, and Savoie’s proposed a couple of interesting ideas I’ll want to discuss with you. You’re not going to kill me or anyone else. You’re retiring. Does that sound okay to you?”
“What about your family?”
He tipped her head back so she could see him. “You mean the rest of my family?”
Her eyes shimmered like precious stones.
“I want to get to know my sister and nephew. Brigit won’t be staying. Things are too tame for her here.”
“And Kendra?”
“She hasn’t mentioned her plans to me.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “And we’re going to find your family and make sure they’re safe.”
Her expression stilled. “Don’t make me promises, Silas.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me to keep them?”
“We wouldn’t be here like this if I didn’t.” There was no doubt in her gaze. There was worry.
Twenty-three
Nica.
She stirred languidly beneath the covers as the low purr of MacCreedy’s voice stroked through her. Delicious sensations of warmth shimmered just beneath the surface of consciousness, nudging away her dreams. Her hand reached across the sheet in search of him and her eyes opened. He wasn’t in bed beside her. Nor was he in the room.
The television was on and she smelled good coffee.
Knotting the belt to her robe, she moved down the hallway and found her big, nearly naked lover at her table breakfasting on a fried egg on toast, yogurt, and half a grapefruit. He pointed at the TV screen with his spoon.
“They still assume it was Savoie in that car. I made coffee.”
How annoying to have someone so wide awake and businesslike at six a.m., expecting conversation.
As she walked in front of the TV, his gaze lifted to linger on her. Now that, she liked. Hot coffee and a hotter stare.
Nica poured herself a cup, frowning slightly at the clutter and juice stains on the countertop. He’d made himself at home very quickly. His attention was back on the television by the time she reentered the room and she paused.
How did this mated-couple thing work?
She wasn’t a morning person. Was he expecting her to get all snuggly with him before she’d had coffee? She liked to begin her day in silence—not with network chatter and the pressures of civility.
MacCreedy toed out a chair for her while concentrating on his meal and the top-of-the-hour news. She took the seat with a scowl. Her shoulder ached, and she felt uncertain as to how their new relationship was going to mesh into her life. Tossing a man out the door after hot sex was a lot simpler than entertaining him in the morning.
What was she supposed to do? Should she have gotten up to feed him? Was she expected to pretend to enjoy the disruption of her routine? Did he expect cheerful conversation?
Apparently MacCreedy didn’t expect anything. He finished his meal, carried his dishes to the kitchen, and did a quick, efficient cleanup before asking, “Can I get you something?”
“No thanks. Just coffee’s fine.”
As she was thinking things might be very fine indeed, he came up behind her and touched a light kiss to her nape.
“I hope the noise didn’t wake you. I usually catch the news with my morning coffee. I should have asked first.”
“No, it’s okay. It didn’t wake me.”
His big hands massaged her upper arms gently before he turned off the remote and went to settle on the love seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Wearing just his undershorts, he was better than a jolt of caffeine. Her gaze drifted along his strong body in appreciation. This was something she could get used to every morning.
“Could I get you to do something for me?” he asked without opening his eyes.
The slight discomfort in his tone made her curious. She took her coffee and went to sit astride his lap, her arm going about his neck as she breathed softly into his ear. “What else would you like me to blow into?”
His eyes popped open and she had his complete attention. His blush charmed her. He wrapped his arms around her with a grin.
“That wasn’t what I had in mind, but I like the way you think.” He tucked her in beside him and kissed her brow. They were snuggling, and she was enjoying it. “I have no clothes.”
“I like that about you. Can I keep you here as my sex toy?”
“Hmmm. I may have to rethink my request.”
“Which is what?”
“Since what I wore last night is in shreds, I’m going to need some stuff from my apartment. And since I can’t really go out like this . . .”
“You want me to go wrestle your belongings away from your sister and your fiancée?”
“Would you? I know it’s a lot to ask.” He frowned and look
ed even more uncomfortable. “I tried calling, but Brigit isn’t picking up.”
Nica kissed him soundly. “You’re going to owe me for this, MacCreedy. I don’t know much about relationships, but even I know this is above and beyond.”
“Thank you, Nica.”
“Talk is cheap, lover. You can thank me later.”
Though she had MacCreedy’s key, using it seemed too rude so she knocked.
The door was answered by a lovely little blonde with fatigue-smudged eyes.
“You must be Kendra. I’m Nica. MacCreedy asked me to stop by and pick up a couple of things for him.”
The ex-fiancée stepped aside in a stupor of dismay to let her in. “Silas couldn’t come for them himself?”
“He wasn’t exactly in a position to.” Nica cast a wary eye about the room. “Is Brigit here?”
“She had to run a few errands. She should be back soon. His things are back here,” Kendra said in a fragile voice as she went down the hall.
In a surly humor, Nica followed. She wanted to fling harsh, defensively spiteful words at the girl. I know where his things are. In fact, I know more about him than you ever will. I’ve already slept with him in his bed, and now he’s in mine.
Her jaw ached with the effort of silence as she sized up the tiny figure as weak and delicate, her manner as helplessly passive. Was that what drew MacCreedy, with his rescuing-hero complex? An aggressive jealousy shimmered through her, a feeling she had no experience with. Competition, she understood. Rivalry, she thrived upon. But how could she confront and overcome something as tenuous as emotional selfishness?
Instead of leaving Nica alone, Kendra sat on the bed and watched her like she was a thief intent on sneaking off with the family jewels.
Determined to ignore her, Nica went to the closet. When she pulled open the door, the essence of the man she loved flooded over her—his scent, the sight of his familiar clothing, the feel of his jacket. For a moment, she was lost to sensual pleasures.
Nica shook off the sentimentality. They were just clothes. She grabbed a couple of his suit coats and white shirts and tossed them onto the bed, then pulled a gym bag out of the closet. When she turned, she saw Kendra lift up one of the jackets, carrying it up to her cheek as dampness gathered on the fringe of her lashes. Nica froze, shocked, then rattled by the implied intimacy.
Why was she surprised? Nica chided herself fiercely. She knew they’d loved each other, that Silas had planned to take Kendra as his mate and share his future with her. And in truth, Nica probably knew only a smidgen of what Kendra did about the man she’d stolen away from her. Nica knew very little about him at all, especially why he’d leave a sweet child like Kendra in the lurch for a bad bet like herself. And that made her cross enough to want to rip the coat from the other’s hands—or join her in tears.
Damn all men, anyway.
Nica stepped over the heaps of female paraphernalia that came with two houseguests. From his dresser she snatched out underwear, socks, and jeans, several T-shirts, and two ties.
“We grew up together,” Kendra said quietly.
“Yes, I know.” Her reply was sharper than she meant it to be.
“He was smart and kind and brave, my dearest friend.”
“Was.” Like he’d died or something.
“After my mother died when I was little, he was the only one who could comfort me. He’d sit with me until I’d fall back to sleep, sometimes for hours.”
Nica didn’t want to picture a young Silas rocking the little girl in his arms, charming her from her fears with his soothing voice. The same way he’d done with her. How could Kendra help but fall in love with him?
Another thought crept in unexpectedly. What a wonderful father he’d make.
“How did your mother die?” Nica asked stiffly.
“She—she was killed.”
“I never knew my mother.” The information was out before Nica could wonder why.
“I’m sorry.”
Why should she be sorry? Nica whirled and stuffed the clothing randomly into MacCreedy’s bag, anxious to escape this uncomfortable discussion and those big, now curious, eyes. She hurried into the bathroom, finding his travel pouch under the sink and loading his toiletries into it, her insides shaking.
When Nica returned to the bedroom, she glanced from the now neatly arranged bag to Kendra’s hands as she folded his charcoal gray suit coat, tucking it gently inside. Temper and panic quaking through her, Nica grabbed the bag, shoved in the travel kit, and jerked at the zipper.
“Don’t forget this.” Kendra took a denim jacket from the closet. “It’s always been his favorite.” She extended it, meeting Nica’s stare fully for the first time. Then she said simply, “He must really love you.”
Nica pushed the jacket back at Kendra. “I’ve got enough here. He can come back for that. I’m sure he’ll want to spend some time with you and his sister before you leave.”
Smiling bravely, Kendra clutched the coat.
Nica shouldered the bag, draped the freshly dry-cleaned tux over her arm, and grabbed his polished shoes off the floor. Then she rushed from the room, only to collide with Brigit at the door.
The redhead stoically took in the sight of her brother’s exiting belongings. Then her gaze widened as Nica’s T-shirt shifted from the bag’s strap, revealing the marks on her shoulder. Marks of possession. Brigit made a stricken sound, then quickly moved forward. Her hands full, Nica readied for an attack.
Embracing her a little too tightly, Brigit surprised her by saying, “Please be good to him. He deserves to be happy.” Then she rushed to the bedroom.
Nica stumbled down the stairs, struggling with an unknown upset. It was as if they were sending her off with his clothes to bury him. Was that how they saw her, as a fate worse than death? As if the evil stepsister had breached their fairy tale and stole the prince out from under them, toothbrush and all?
She rushed down the sidewalk, trying to outdistance her distress. By the time she collapsed into her elevator, she was a mess of raw emotions. She had to key the door three times for it to green-light. And after shooting the dead bolt on the outside world, the first thing she heard was the low rumble of his voice.
She followed the sound into the living room. He was on the phone, bending over the table to jot something down on the back of her phone book. The sight of him in his butt-hugging briefs gave her heart a quick kick start.
MacCreedy turned at the sound of his belongings being dumped on the floor and saw Nica disappearing down the hallway. Frowning slightly, he ended his call and pulled on jeans before going after her.
She was in the bathroom brushing her hair with swift, brutal motions until it snapped with electricity. As did her mood.
“Do you want me to camp out in the living room?”
The rhythm of her arm was interrupted briefly; then she continued the fierce strokes. “That would be foolish, since you didn’t invite yourself to move in to sleep on the couch.”
“Can I put my stuff away in your room?”
She glared at him, something dark and dangerous glittering in her eyes. “Where else would you put it?”
“From the mood you’re in, I thought maybe you wanted it out on the curb.”
“I wouldn’t have dragged it all the way over here if that’s where I wanted it.”
“Just checking.”
“And I’m not in a ‘mood.’ ”
Oooookay. He’d grown up with two females. He knew when it was smart to back away without argument.
Silas retrieved his things. The bathroom door was closed as he passed by on the way to the bedroom. Her unexplained temper had him cautious, but the satisfaction of settling in with her soon overcame it.
She had surprisingly few possessions. He found an empty drawer in the dresser and plenty of available hangers in the closet.
As he was hanging up his jacket, Kendra’s scent came tumbling out of the folds. The intensity made him think she’d held it close, not ju
st touched it. That quickened his worry. It couldn’t have been a pleasant meeting. Why hadn’t he considered the feelings of these two females he loved more carefully?
There was no way to deal with Kendra’s hurt and humiliation at the moment. But he did have a very prickly female right here who was undoubtedly rethinking their living arrangement. And regrets, he couldn’t allow.
As he was shoving his empty bag into the back of the closet, it bumped into another piece of carry-on. MacCreedy drew out the battered backpack with its taunting lock, remembering the desperate gratitude in Nica’s eyes when he’d returned it to her. He gave it a slight shake, hearing loose items rattle inside it.
“What are you doing?”
He turned toward the door with a guilty start. “I was just putting my things away.”
Her glare filled with angry fire, Nica snatched the backpack from him. “This is mine. Keep your hands off it. If you think you can snoop around where you don’t belong, you’re mistaken. In fact, this whole idea was a mistake.” Bag clutched to her chest, she whirled toward the door.
Nica, don’t walk away. Trust me!
She stopped, her body tense and suddenly trembling. Slowly, she came about, her wary gaze lifting to his.
“I know this has been sudden,” Silas began, his voice low and calming, as if he didn’t realized he’d projected his thoughts. “I know you’re upset and afraid and angry. I’m not trying to crowd you or control you, Nica. I don’t want to change you. I’m not going to pry into your past or ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s going to be you doing your thing and me doing my thing, until we can figure out how to make those things work together. I want us to be together. Fifty-fifty. Two halves, one whole. Is that what you want, too?”
A stiff nod.
“Good, because I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not going to leave you. I know it’s awkward sharing space. For me, too.” That was a lie. There was nothing Silas loved more than the sound of family chaos around him. He thrived on it. The surrounding sense of love fed his soul and he’d been starving for it. The loneliness was what tore him apart.
