by Arlene James
Adam approved heartily. The clerk then sold him on a cream-colored satin wrap coat with a pink lining and a pair of dangly earrings and a matching bracelet made of synthetic stones known as “pink ice.” Laura insisted sternly that she didn’t need the coat or the jewelry, but Adam ignored her and bought it all, the purchase handled as discreetly as a state secret.
Laura allowed herself to be herded back to the dressing room, her pride at war with the feminine need to look her very best for her man. Surely she could cover the cost from her savings. The woman had said that the coat was on sale, and Laura took heart from that, but standing there in front of that dressing room mirror, she turned this way and that, sure something was wrong, and then she knew. It was her hair. It was the same old hair she wore every day, long and straight as a board. She bit her lip, wondering what Adam would say if she asked his opinion, then shook her head. She ought to manage this much on her own, but what to do? She supposed she could ask Jane or Erica or even Rebecca, but she doubted they’d give her an honest opinion, for fear of hurting her feelings. She turned to the haughty salesperson instead. Here was one who respected nothing but the almighty dollar. She need not fear having her feelings spared at the cost of truth.
It took some nerve to ask, but to her surprise, the woman merely gave her a frank look, then stepped behind her and swept her hair up with a few swift, economical movements of her hands. She curled it in one smooth twist up the back of Laura’s head and anchored it with her fingers at the crown. It was a sleek, chic, elegant style that Laura immediately knew suited her well. Her bangs were a little overlong, but Laura combed them into place with her fingers, liking the way they framed her face.
“You’ll need a bit of shadow in the folds of the eyelids,” the sales consultant instructed smoothly. “I should think a soft shade of taupe, and of course you’ll want to use a dark brown mascara before curling your eyelashes. Then I think a mauve lip pencil, followed with a clear pink lipstick. Hmm…” She cocked her head, studying Laura’s face, and announced, “Or you could go red, but no blush, I think. Your natural coloring is adequate.”
Laura thanked the woman, who deigned to lift an eyebrow before striding from the room, letting Laura’s hair fall to her shoulders. Laura quickly twisted it up again and smiled at her image. Yes, it was exactly right—the dress, the shoes, the hair, even the stockings. Whatever the cost, she would pay it to know that Adam could escort her proudly.
It didn’t work out quite that way, and she got her first inkling that it wasn’t going to when she priced some of the articles of clothing in the children’s department. A hundred and seventeen dollars for a child’s dress! Adam chose a simple jumper of yellow-gold velveteen and a lacy blouse and petticoat to be worn beneath it. Laura suggested white tights, having noticed runs and snags in those Wendy already possessed, but balked at buying shoes without Wendy there to try them on, even though Adam had traced patterns of the children’s feet on plain white paper.
“How about these?” Adam asked, picking up a pair of soft ballet-style slippers with elasticized edges.
Laura conceded that those might well work, but shopping for the boys proved a little more difficult. Boys’ shoes didn’t come in soft elasticized styles. After some wrangling, however, they managed to agree on identical pairs of short navy blue coveralls, white long-sleeved shirts with little red bow ties and navy knee socks. The shoes would have to be purchased in St. Cloud.
At the last moment, Adam picked up a tiny leather handbag for Wendy, and for the boys zippered wallets embossed with the faces of favorite cartoon characters. Then, to Laura’s everlasting amazement, Adam steered her to the men’s department, where he proceeded to buy himself a classy double-breasted tuxedo, pin-tucked shirt and black silk cummerbund and tie, military dress uniform no longer being appropriate. It was such fun, especially when Laura managed to sneak in the purchase of a white cashmere scarf for him without his knowledge. She teased him while he stood with arms extended and legs spread as no fewer than three tailors buzzed around him with tapes and chalk and lethal-looking straight pins, each fervently promising that the alterations would be completed by the end of the working day.
Adam then whisked Laura off for a late lunch in an expensive restaurant, where he flirted with her over medallions of veal and pasta primavera. Laura was feeling relaxed and happy by the time they collected their parcels and headed for home. As Adam expertly merged their vehicle into traffic, she reached across the armrest separating the seats and laid her hand on his forearm.
“I have a favor to ask you.”
He shot her an intrigued look. “Anything.”
She smiled. “You’re extremely generous, but this is very important to me.”
His gaze swept over her face, lingering briefly on her mouth. “Just ask.”
“I want you to let me pay for my own clothing.”
He flipped a hand. “Done. From here on out, whatever you buy, you pay for.”
“I mean the clothing we bought today.”
Adam shot her a surprised look and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Laura, honey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Adam, please. I was serious when I said that this is important to me.”
He shook his head. “Baby, you don’t realize… That is, I’m not certain you can… Just take my word for it, sweetheart, now is not the time to assert your independence. Let it go this once. Next time—”
“Next time you’ll say the very same thing,” she argued. “I know you, Adam Fortune, you won’t let me pay for a thing!”
“Word of honor, hon. Besides, this particular purchase was instigated completely by me.”
Laura sighed. “Adam, I want you to be proud of me, but—” she began softly. Suddenly the truck jerked over to the side of the street, ran up onto a curb and came to an abrupt halt. Adam jerked the emergency brake and reached for her, pulling her close.
“Have you got it in that brain of yours that I’m somehow ashamed of you?”
“Well, no, not exactly.”
“Not at all!”
Her heart swelled to the bursting point. “Oh, Adam, I fought so hard against falling in love with you. Now, I need you to know that it isn’t the money or the job, and certainly not the name. It’s you, all you, and I don’t want there ever to be any doubt about that. Whatever happens, I want you to know that what won my heart was you.”
“Laura.” He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer still, his mouth seizing hers with possessive intent. “Laura, my Laura. You’ll never know what that means to me. God, you light up my life like nothing and no one else ever has before. What would I have done if you hadn’t come along?”
“Well, you wouldn’t have bought that dress, for one thing!” she teased, beaming.
He laid his forehead against hers, laughing huskily. “Pay for the damned dress, if that’s what you want to do. Just remember that I’d buy anything, do anything, say anything, to keep you with me!”
She didn’t tell him then that she’d stay, but in her heart she knew that only one thing could ever make her go.
Twelve
Life was good.
Laura sat curled up on the couch, thumbing through a magazine and listening to Wendy hum softly to herself as she lay on her belly on the floor, wielding a crayon against a page in her new coloring book. Her little feet drummed lightly in time with her tune, and her head wagged slightly from side to side as she concentrated on her coloring, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. She was the picture of a contented child, and Laura felt a warm glow of pride because it was so.
Adam came into the room. He was walking blindly, his nose stuck in a book that promised to be the definitive study on American Empire furniture. He bumped his shin on the edge of the coffee table, but merely grunted and shifted course, finally lowering himself gingerly into his chair. No sooner was he settled than he turned the page and crossed his legs.
Laura smiled to herself. Sh
e would not have ventured to say that he was contented, for a finely drawn sexual tension had developed between them, an awareness and a building passion that she feared would blow her apart if ever they gave it expression, but he was patient and loving and unexpectedly gentle with her. She loved him with her eyes from where she sat, and he lowered the book and returned the look as if he’d sensed her very gaze. She dropped her head, smiling to herself, and asked if he’d seen the boys in the past few minutes, for they were suspiciously absent. He cut his eyes knowingly and replied that, believe it or not, they were playing quietly in their room. They shared another look that fairly sizzled the air between them, and even after Adam went back to his book, a sense of anticipation and well-being simmered within her.
This happy feeling had started to grow the day they went into the city shopping. She remembered and held dear his every word and gesture from that day, especially those that had come at the end. Just remember that I’d buy anything, do anything, say anything, to keep you with me. She shivered anew with delight at the memory of the words, but it was more than mere words that swelled her heart and fired her imagination. The things he had done! The way he had kissed her, touched her, indulged her, spoke volumes, especially when she had carried her hard-earned money to him and insisted on knowing the cost of the outfit he had bought her for the reception.
He hadn’t liked it, but he had held true to his word. She had nearly choked when she learned the total cost of all he’d purchased, for it was twice what she’d managed to save and then some, but when she reiterated how important it was to her, he had proposed a compromise. She would pay for the dress, the stockings and the shoes, but the coat, the jewelry and the frilly underclothes would be his gift to her. The very idea of those underclothes being a gift from him was somehow especially thrilling, but she hadn’t dared tell him that. She concentrated instead on the cost of the dress, the shoes, and the stockings. Even that was beyond her, but he had taken what money she had and promised to withhold the rest from her pay in small increments. Then he had done the sweetest thing. He had beckoned her into the room, his room, and he had shown her a secret compartment in his desk. The money would be kept there, he had told her, and if ever she should have need of it, for any reason, she was simply to come and take it, no questions asked.
He had taken her pride money, but he hadn’t taken her freedom to care for her personal needs, to act in an emergency. He hadn’t made her beholden to him for every dime and nickel, and though he had said that he would buy or say or do anything to keep her with him, he had made it possible for her to go, proving that her feelings counted more than his own desires.
Oh, yes, life was good, very, very good.
Her eyes were shining with moisture when Wendy got up from the floor and skipped over to lean against her father’s leg. “This is for you, Daddy.”
Adam put down his book and studied with genuine interest the simple picture she had colored, complimenting its every aspect. Wendy beamed and visibly softened. She leaned across his lap and pointed to a certain spot on the paper, saying, “I got out of the lines some there.”
Adam turned his head, as if seeking a different angle. “Um, yes, you did, but do you know something? It worked out rather well. I think it needed this wisp of extra color here.” The wisp was more like a rat’s nest of scribbled lines, but Wendy was patently thrilled. She crawled up in his lap and wound her arms around his neck.
“I love you, Daddy!”
“I love you, too, honey. Listen, I have a good idea!” With a glance in Laura’s direction, he cupped a hand and whispered in Wendy’s ear.
Wendy crawled down off his lap and plopped onto her belly, throwing open her book again and glancing eagerly in Laura’s direction. Laura had little doubt that she was soon to be the recipient of a painstakingly colored picture, especially when Wendy popped up again a moment later.
“Hey, I got a good idea, too! How about when I’m done with this one, I color a picture for Aunt Rocky and Uncle Luke?”
Adam nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Wendy. Aunt Rocky will be very pleased.”
“Maybe we could even get a little frame for it,” Laura suggested helpfully.
“Like a real picture on the wall!” Wendy exclaimed excitedly.
“We’ll do that,” Adam declared. “Then we’ll wrap it up in pretty paper, and you can give it to Aunt Rocky at the reception.”
A thrilled Wendy got to work. Not a minute later, a muted crash, coupled with a terrified scream, shattered the companionable silence. Laura and Adam both jumped up and ran for the boys’ room. Adam got there just a heartbeat ahead of her and threw open the door as she skidded to a stop. Laura gasped at the sight of the little body folded up unnaturally on the floor at the foot of the bed, surrounded by shards of milky glass.
“Robbie!” Adam pushed past her, falling to his knees beside his son, heedless of the glass. Just as he reached toward the boy with trembling hands, Robbie unfolded and lurched up onto his elbows, wailing loudly. Adam heaved a sigh of relief, and then relief flared into anger. “What on earth were you doing? Were you trying to kill yourself?”
Laura peered over his shoulder, realizing suddenly that she’d forgotten to breathe for a long moment. Adam ran careful hands over his son’s small body before setting him firmly on his feet. Laura feared for an instant that he might shake the boy before gaining firm control of his own emotions, and she dropped a restraining hand on his shoulder. She needn’t have worried, though, for Adam merely smoothed a hand over the boy’s head. “You’ve got a knot the size of a golf ball back there! For heaven’s sake, Rob! What were you doing?”
Suddenly he pulled the crying boy to him for a rough hug. It was at that point that Ryan peeked warily over the edge of the bed, his eyes huge with trepidation. Laura moved carefully to the side of the bed and crooked a finger at him. He scrambled up onto the rumpled covers and into her arms. She lifted him carefully free of the glass and carried him into the hall. Adam got up and followed with Robbie sobbing on his shoulder, saying, “I’ve got an ice pack in my room.”
Laura sat Ryan on his feet, but kept his hand in hers. Together they trailed Adam to the master suite, where he placed Robbie on the side of the bed. He pointed a finger at Ryan, then pointed to the spot next to Robbie. Ryan obediently crawled up to sit next to his brother, while Adam went to get the ice pack, which he delivered to Laura with the request that she fill it while he talked to the boys. By the time she got back from the kitchen, Adam had pieced together the story.
It seemed that the boys had tired of playing quietly and had taken to throwing wooden blocks at one another. Robbie had come up with the bright idea of presenting his brother with a moving target, namely himself. He had climbed up onto his bed and started to jump up and down while Ryan chucked blocks at him. One block had hit and shattered the light fixture overhead, scaring Robbie so much that he’d slipped and fallen from the bed. Adam gave them both a good scolding, forbade them the sanctuary of their bedroom for play for a full week and confiscated the whole set of blocks for the same period of time. Then he sat down on the bed beside Robbie and tenderly applied the ice pack to the bump on the back of his head.
Predictably, Robbie soon wiggled his way onto his father’s lap. Not wanting Ryan to feel left out, Laura snuggled him close and whispered that everything would soon be fine, that he would learn to play safely and not take chances with his and his brother’s safety. Soon Adam was lying on his side across his bed, Robbie tucked into the curve of his body. Without even realizing that she was doing so, Laura sank down, facing him, Ryan snuggled against her. Tears and reticence gradually gave way to tentative giggles and relief and finally to fully restored spirits. As the knot on his head and the pain it engendered faded, Robbie asked to be let down. Adam lifted his arm and allowed the boy to slide free, telling him that he could go to the den. Ryan quickly followed.
As soon as they were gone, Adam lay back and groaned. “I think
I lost ten years off my life. When I opened that door and saw him lying there…”
Laura wedged a forearm between her head and the mattress, her weight balanced on her elbow. “I should have been watching them more closely. I’m sorry.”
He came up and twisted to the side, leaning over her. “The FBI couldn’t watch those boys better than you do. Besides, you asked me what they were up to, and I dismissed the possibility of trouble because I’d checked on them not five minutes earlier.”
“Five minutes can be a long time for a kid,” Laura said.
Adam gave his head a wry nod. “Obviously.”
She started to sit up, saying, “I’d better get that glass cleaned up.”
His eyes caught hers, and he gave his head a little shake, his arm coming around her smoothly, snug against the small of her back. Her breath caught as he lifted her against him. Then his mouth covered hers, and he pressed her down onto the bed, levering his weight atop her. His free hand slid over her hip and down her thigh to the bend of her knee, which he tugged upward, opening her legs to him. With only a slight shift of his weight, he was cradled in the apex of her thighs. He slid his tongue into her mouth and, with a moan low in his throat, began to rock against her.
Laura lifted her arms and draped them around his neck, melting beneath him. Her head was swimming, and every time he rocked against her, it spun a little faster. In no time at all, she was frantic. She forgot to worry that the children might walk in. She forgot to worry about whether she was being fair to him, whether she was placing him in danger, whether this was right, whether she was going to get her heart broken. She forgot everything and everyone but the man in her arms, the strength of him, the power leashed by gentleness, the desire that poured from him, the heat that melted her into putty. She sought instinctively to please him, to make herself a part of him. Simply put, she gave herself up wholly, for the first time, to loving Adam Fortune, and she was good at it. Everything said so, every sound he made, every movement, the pounding of his heart against her breast, the quick jerkiness of his breath, the slant of his lips and the sweep of his tongue. He told her in every way possible how very good she was at loving him. When she dug her heels into the mattress and tilted her pelvis, he ground himself against her, and then, with a groan, he pulled back, breaking the kiss and burying his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder.
