by Riley Murphy
She was quiet. Too quiet so he crouched down to meet her at eye level. The woeful down-curve of her lips said it all. “Aww, do you need a hug?”
She nodded but remained staring at his chest. She lookedso disgruntled that he chuckled and jostled her in his arms, forcing her to look up. “Are you okay?”
It was a near miss when she took a swing at him. Fortunately for both of them, she pulled back halfway into the arc of the punch.
“Whoa, what were you going to do that for?”
“Making me…you shouldn’t have…oh fu—Toledo, I never flipping cry. I-I d-don’t.”
“I know, princess,” he gathered her in and hugged the hell out of her. “I know.”
An hour later she was still processing what she’d learned about herself, the concept of pain and how her body dealt with it. And in her mind there was no better place to be doing it. With her ear pressed against his chest, her head rose and fell as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a ride she was getting addicted to and she didn’t want to move. She barely breathed. Afraid it would all end.
“Hey, are you asleep?”
“No.” She snuggled in, staking more of a claim. She didn’t want him leaving if that’s what he thought he was going to do. She remembered him saying earlier, he might stay with her and if she had any say in the outcome he was going to.
“I thought—”
He was ready to leave her. She was sure of it. Thinking quickly to distract him, she squeezed in tighter, pressed in closer. Crowded him for a change, and asked, “Why do you love apples so much?”
He let out a breath. “Apples? Aren’t you tired?”
“No.”
“Hm. Apples. Well, I suppose it’s because they represent more than just food to me.”
That surprised her. So much so, she eased her grip and leaned up to look at him. Fucking hell, he was gorgeous. With his hair mussed and a thick layer of stubble shading his jaw, he appeared so doable she wanted to tell him to put thoughts of the farm fruit away and feast on her.
“Everyone is so gung-ho about people being like onions, but I disagree.” He tugged on her hair and her toes curled. “People really don’t have that many layers, you know. Two or three tops and an onion, well, depending on the size, has many more than that. No one, not even Sybil, has that many layers to peel.”
He was totally serious. Exactly how much thought had he given the topic? A grin split her face when that came to her. A grin? She knew it had to be one because the unusual action felt weird. Weird because she never grinned. But right now how could she not? Only a guy like Ted would make such a bizarre observation and have it make sense. It would make sense, she was sure of it. She looked down and rubbed his naked, warm, hard and bulging-with-tempting-muscles chest. Trying like hell not to drool. “Go on.”
“Jo?”
“Hmm?” Normally his gaze came at her direct and dark. Firm. Confident, but right now it wavered ever so slightly. Was he going to show a little underbelly here? She searched his face. “I’m listening.”
He relaxed and seeing him rake a hand through his bed-rumbled hair, she inwardly sighed. He was so—No. Pay attention. Do what you just promised and listen. “Think about an apple. From the outside it looks perfect. Shiny and shaped exactly how it’s supposed to be shaped. It isn’t until you skin it that you see the flaws.”
The way he looked at her made her heart skitter in her chest.
“And it isn’t until you peel the beauty away that you see the bruises.”
“Bruises,” she repeated. She hadn’t meant to say anything. The word just fell out.
“Yeah. You know what’s funny about them?”
“What?”
“The apple is sweeter. More tender in those spots.”
She nodded. She’d taken natural science in high school. “I suppose.”
He reached out and pulled her into his embrace. In two seconds flat she was comfortable. Utterly. Totally…oh freaking hell, she was in heaven.
“Think about it. The punishment the apple took in its journey to get to you altered it in such a way as to improve it.”
“I cut the bruises out.” She closed her eyes and murmured, “I never eat them.”
“That’s a shame. Heavily bruised apples make the best sauce.” She tilted her head and looked up at him. “Just like people. Don’t cut them out.”
She frowned. “Are we talking about people or bruises?”
“People with bruises. But back to my analogy. With an apple there’s also a core that’s filled with the prospect of new growth. Seeds.” He squeezed her. “What’s an onion got when you get to the center?”
She blinked, wondering whether his question was rhetorical. The continued silence prompted her to lean up and answer, “I don’t know.”
“Nothing. Once it’s peeled it’s gone. No seeds, no prospects of growth. Nothing as it has no heart.”
Thinking about that for a moment, she decided he was right. “I see what you’re saying.”
He brought his hand up and cupped her chin. The pad of his thumb brushing her cheek felt nice. Awesome. She leaned into it.
“I’m glad,” he whispered, “because I find bruised apples far more interesting than shiny ones.”
“Am I a bruised apple?”
He nodded.
In the quiet that stretched between them then, Jo knew for a certainty, bruised apple or not, she had a heart. Right now it was beating triple time as he stroked her hair. A heart that was opening. Welcoming him into it. Just a little.
“My favorite,” he said, before he hauled her in for a hug.
And all Jo could think while she blinked back tears was scratch a little. The way she felt right now about him counted for a lot.
Maybe too much…
Chapter Twelve
The following afternoon, Jo pressed enter on the keyboard and smiled. “See? I told you it was a sure thing.”
Ted grinned back. “Yes you did. You like what you do, don’t you?”
She sat back in her chair and nodded because it was the truth. Up until Ted came into her life, work was really all she had. Well, aside from her two friends, but since one of them had gotten married, and the other one was scarcely around now that she had a boyfriend, it was safe to say work had been her only outlet. “Yes.”
“Tell me,” he reached out and took her hand, “are you learning anything about yourself being with me?”
She dropped her gaze to their entwined hands, trying to control the stupid blush that heated her cheeks. When he focused in on her like this her body immediately responded. She got restless and kind of horny. It was weird. “Sometimes.”
“Jo.” He squeezed her hand and she looked up.
“What?”
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath and counted to thirty before she made the correction. “Yes?”
His eyes twinkled. “Better, now I’d like you to be more specific please.”
“I think in some instances a person can change.”
He let go of her hand and tilted his head to study her. The intensity of his gaze was raw and made her feel naked somehow. “I think people change for one reason and that is they’ve learned enough from the lesson they’ve been given.” He searched her face. Gauging, she was sure. “Consequently, if a person doesn’t change after a lesson, that tells me they haven’t suffered enough.” He blinked. “But you still haven’t answered my question. What have you learned?”
She could have said she’d learned that she didn’t like to be interrogated or tied up. But then that wouldn’t be true because last night after he used that silken cord on her again, pinning her to the bed while he coaxed all kinds of sexy answers from her, she hadn’t minded. In the end nearly all her inhibitions—
“Jo.”
She jumped. “All right. After last night I’ve learned I’d rather think about the answers I’m going to give you before I blurt them out, because that hasn’t worked out so good for me so far.”
He chuckled. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily. I want to know what else you learned last night. About you in here.” He tapped his finger against the left side of her chest. “We already know from the first night I used the ropes on you, you can’t control your body’s needs no matter how hard you try. But what about last night? What you admitted to me.” He reached for her hand again. “Don’t turn away. Tell me again how being rendered helpless makes you feel.”
Her eyes narrowed. She knew what he was after. “You’re trying to turn me into one of those women. I’m not helpless. I never will be.”
“Do you think Colin’s helpless? Isn’t she one of ‘those’ women?”
Now she was sure her eyes were slits. He’d have to bring that up. “Colin is different and Ethan isn’t you.”
He rubbed her hand and she really wished her pulse stopped reacting to his slightest touch.
“I’m not turning you into anything. Submission is not something I had to create in you. It was always there. All I have to do is cultivate it. I’m still waiting for an answer.”
God, that tone. It made her want to sit up and take notice, and before she could stop herself, she grabbed for his hand when he went to withdraw from her. “Wait. It makes me feel safe, all right? Comfortable. Happy. Blissful for fuc—” she slammed her lips shut.
“For Ohio’s sake?”
And right there was her biggest problem with him. Her ass-over-tea-kettle attraction to him was one thing, because the guy could be Viggo Mortensen’s twin. Dead sexy and rugged with an element of danger that wrapped around him like some kind of captivating pheromone cologne. But when he teased her, like he was now, she lost all concept of the person she was supposed to be. The hard badass turned into a giddy, girlish mess.
He tilted his head right, then left and she grinned. “Yeah. Ohio.”
“I’m so proud of you.” He pulled her out of her chair and dragged her onto his lap. “You’ve kept the swearing to a minimum, and you haven’t taken a swing at me for four days. I’d say we’re making pretty good progress, wouldn’t you?”
He tipped her chin up and she would have answered, but then he leaned down for a kiss. The second his lips touched hers every thought she had vanished as she sank her fingers in his hair and held on tight for many, many moments.
“Okay, that’s enough.” He ended their kiss and playfully smacked her bottom. “If you keep doing that we’ll never be on time to meet your mother.”
Jo’s eyes fluttered open and she realized with no small amount of embarrassment that she had somehow straddled his lap in the chair and was grinding on him. “Oh.”
“Careful.” He steadied her so she didn’t fall when she shot off his lap. “It’s not your fault, princess. I got kind of carried away myself.”
He was staring at her chest so she looked down. Unbelievable. Her shirt was wide open. She pulled the sides together and shook her hair behind her shoulders, looking up again. “I’ll say. Maybe I should call and cancel. Tell her we had car trouble.”
He wagged his finger and stood up. “No. I told you yesterday. You made the plans so we’re sticking to them.”
She tried not to let her aggravation show, but her fingers were stiff as she did up her blouse. Why had she said yes to her mother? She knew why. She hadn’t figured in the Ted factor. He was consuming her every thought. Every plan she made, whether it was to meet with her friends or talk to a client, revolved around not interrupting her time with him. Probably why, on Wednesday night she blurted out the invitation for him to join her. She’d been surprised he’d accepted and that’s when the worry set in. Would her mother say anything in front of him about Anjay? She wasn’t worried she’d bring up her father’s delusions of a marriage between them, because that was just crazy. Her poor dad would learn the truth of that soon enough. Right after Anjay cashed that check and as to that?
The money was now in her account so she’d called his office and left a message to let him know. She made a mental note to check in the morning to see if he’d collected. She also reminded herself that no one knew she’d been confronted by Anjay at the convention center. As far as her parents were concerned she left without seeing him that night.
“My mother and I are not on the best terms. The dinner with her might not be very exciting.”
“Jo.” Ted scooped his car keys off the coffee table. “We’ll see. Have you seen my wallet?”
She shook her head and when he went to walk past her to hunt it down, she grabbed his arm. “Ted?”
That voice inside her screamed, “Come clean so you can deal with your mother on honest terms. He’ll help you. He won’t judge you.”
“Hm..?”
But he might realize you’re not worthy of love. You’re not important.
“I…” No one fights for you, but you. Remember that. No, Ted’s different. He— Maybe if he hadn’t straightened her collar at that very moment and given her shoulder a caress, she would have said the words that wanted so badly to come out instead of… “I, ah, think I saw it on the counter in the kitchen by the phone.”
“Great.”
She nearly collapsed when he left to get it. Hanging on to the side of the couch for support, she told herself it was too soon. She wasn’t ready to tell him what her mother had done, because she knew the moment she said it out loud her mother would be dead to her forever. The very idea was slowly killing the childlike hope she’d clung to that one day their relationship would heal. That they’d laugh together again. That they’d hug…
She took a deep breath and gave herself a mental shake. She couldn’t salvage that relationship, but she could protect the one she had with Ted by not giving him the choice to help her. Protect her. That way if he didn’t she wouldn’t have to live with the heart-wrenching disappointment. She’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime.
“Hey, gloomy Gus? You coming or what?”
* * * * *
Ted had no illusions. He didn’t blame Jo for shutting down. Having to sit through dinner with a mother she believed had abandoned her had to be tough. Truthfully, that was the only reason he’d agreed to come tonight. He thought he’d gain a little insight into what kind of person Jo’s mom was. It really was a head scratcher. Jo was smart, feisty and sensitive, which told Ted that her mother had to have done something right while raising her.
“You make it sound like I was a brainiac.” Jo turned to him and scowled. “I wasn’t. I just did my schoolwork like I was told.”
He grinned, “That’s surprising.” It was Pauline Nehr’s throaty laugh that caught his attention. Jo laughed like that. It was so familiar that he couldn’t help staring.
She didn’t take any notice. Instead she pushed her half-eaten Napoleon aside and said, “I see you know my girl well. She doesn’t like to do what she’s told most times. Even when you do tell her she only does it because she wants to not because you told her to.”
Ted leaned back and asked, “Was she always like this? I mean, as a child did she follow your rules or…?”
Pauline shook her head. “No. I’d have to say she was the maverick in the family. I always—”
“Excuse me. I am sitting here.”
Just like she’d done the whole night, she addressed him rather than looking at her mom. It was unnerving. So much so, he wondered what the hell they did when there wasn’t a third party as go-between.
“You interrupted.” He sat forward and curled his hand over hers. “Your mother was speaking.”
Her eyes narrowed, but only slightly before she drew in a breath and straightened up. “I’m sorry, Mother. I shouldn’t have interrupted.” This she spoke to the tabletop.
“Jo.” Ted squeezed her hand.
“All right.” Her head was bowed and when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, he gave her another hand squeeze. That did it. She snapped up her head and asked, “You were saying?”
Pauline was clearly baffled by their exchange, so Ted offered, “Jo’s been worki
ng on being more graceful.”
Her mother blinked and then nodded. Turning her attention to Jo, she answered, “I ah, really don’t remember what I was saying.”
There was an uncomfortable pause, and Ted waited while Jo eased back in her seat. She was almost there when her mother blurted. “Oh I know what I haven’t asked you about. Anjay. You saw him after the awards Saturday night. Dad told me.”
That statement hit Ted like an uppercut to his jaw. Jo saw that fucker? No, her mother was mistaken. She had to be. He kept an eye on Jo and when he spied the telling flush that flooded her cheeks with undeniable guilt, his stomach clenched. “D-Dad’s mistaken.”
Jesus fuck. His heart rate sped. She was lying.
“Mistaken? I don’t think he was. He wrote it—”
Jo turned to him. “Are we going to get the check?”
He remained stoic as he forced her to hold his gaze even though he knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to shift it away from him and hide. He didn’t let her go. He pinned her with a calm he wasn’t feeling and spoke softly, knowing she’d hear the undercurrent of pure steel steeped in his tone. “You interrupted your mother again.”
“So?”
Obviously she was too intent on lying than paying attention. If she were paying attention the last thing she’d be with him was flippant. “Jo.”
“It’s okay, Ted. Josephine’s probably right. Peter gets things confused sometimes.”
Was her mother going to lie for her? “I understand that he has poor memory retention,” Ted said, shifting his gaze and directing it full-force on Pauline. “But you did say he wrote it down so as not to forget. He did write it down, didn’t he?”
With no escape and therefore no choice, she nodded and he looked away. Not at Jo, because he couldn’t. He needed to take the time to regroup. He thought about her coming to him that night. The stairs…the bath… Don’t go there. Not yet. Not ever. She lied. She lied to him even after he’d told her how he felt about it. How he wouldn’t abide it. He couldn’t. Maybe… There were no fucking maybes. None. Not one.
