But she’d been drunk and he’d probably forgotten all about it.
She just wished she could.
Flo had looked surprisingly good for an old lady who’d suffered a slight stroke. John and Liz were not allowed to stay long, however, so they left after half an hour.
“Shouldn’t Carly be home by now?” Liz asked as they entered the luncheonette.
“She’s staying with Bridget tonight. They’re going to do girl stuff, she told me earlier. Getting ready for prom stuff.”
Liz slowly nodded her head in understanding. “Oh, yeah, I heard all about that. She and my grandmother worked something out. She’s supposed to help out tomorrow and help with the prep on Sunday.”
“She’ll do it. I’ll make sure she does.”
Liz stopped walking and faced John. “Your daughter is a great kid. She’s been a super help, you know.”
John looked down into Liz’s face. “How did you know? I haven’t told anybody.”
Liz frowned. “Told anybody what? That she’s a hard worker?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
John looked away briefly, then fastened his eyes on Liz’s. “That she’s my daughter.”
Liz walked into the restaurant and carefully locked the door behind John. The air still smelled like cream of broccoli soup with toasted parmesan bread. “What do you mean? Of course she’s your kid. She has your eyes, your dimples, the way you carry yourself... she’s your kid. Isn’t she?”
John parked himself on one of the stools and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, I just realized she was mine two days ago.”
Liz plunked herself down next to him. “You’re joking, right?”
“No. I never even knew she existed until a few weeks ago when she showed up at my door. Did you know she hired me to find her father? The kid had a list she’d taken from her file at some convent in Philly with the names of six men on it.”
Liz backed away. “Do you mean she’s been living upstairs with you all this time and you didn’t know she was your kid?”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” he said. “I kept her safe and off the streets. I didn’t realize I could have been her father until after I’d done some investigating. I looked up the men on the list and none of them could possibly have been responsible for her.”
“And, like, what? Her mother? Did you forget her the way you seem to have forgotten all these mysterious women who come up to you on the street or in stores and slap your face?”
John felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “If you want the truth . . . yeah. I didn’t remember sleeping with her mother. But I found her mother, even though the woman denies Carly is her daughter, and she told me we had slept together. It must not have been . . . never mind. But I realized I could be the kid’s father and after meeting those other men, I knew I had to be her father.”
“So,” Liz tried to get a handle on this, “you didn’t know you’d fathered a child?”
John squirmed to hear it put that way. “No, I hadn’t a clue. If I had known, things would have been different. Believe me. The woman, or her lawyers, took care of disposing of the baby, but they were careful to make sure she would not be adopted. The nuns kept her with them all these years. Poor kid,” he added. “No one will admit to anything and we can’t force the issue in any way whatsoever.”
“But you never noticed the family resemblance?”
He had, all along, felt some kind of bond with Carly, but he’d denied it. “Not really. Except for one thing.”
Liz put her hands on the counter. “And that was?”
John leaned back and laughed. “Remember that morning when you held me at knifepoint?”
His interrogator blushed again. He liked the way her eyelashes fanned against her fine cheekbones. “Well, I brought up some jelly doughnuts for her. Damndest thing, the kid sucked the jelly end first, just like I do. I guess I should have known from that.”
Liz threw back her head and laughed until she almost fell off the stool. When she sobered, she looked at John and gave him a rueful grin. “And you missed that big a clue? What kind of private dick are you?”
John stood, pulled Liz from the stool and wrapped his arms around her. Before she could protest, he lowered his lips to hers and lost himself in a deep, probing kiss.
“Want to find out?” he whispered into her ear.
“Yes.”
He almost stopped himself. He almost kissed her hand, put it to his heart and explained that it wouldn’t be right for him to lose himself in her. It would be crass and unfeeling of him to take his pleasure knowing that he’d be in prison in two days’ time, or dead. It didn’t matter how much he liked her or wanted to be with her, he’d be leaving her. It wouldn’t be fair to let her think that there might be something between them, something that meant something, and could grow and possibly flower.
He couldn’t give her the family she’d lost and wanted so badly to replace with him behind bars. And that would be if he was lucky enough not to get the death penalty.
At least he was leaving Carly with a family. He’d leave Liz with nothing more than shame.
He couldn’t do that.
Even in the dark he knew Liz watched his eyes. And wise woman that she was, rather than wasting time asking questions, she put her hand on his fly and squeezed gently at first, then more insistently.
John knew better than to be cruel at this moment—first of all, she had his dick in her hands, secondly, she’d been able to forget their first encounter, so perhaps she could brush this one off, should it happen.
Yeah, that was logical. Not.
Besides, it was too late since she already had her hand at the waistband of his jeans and yanked open the fastener. He heard the rasp of the metal zipper—then he was free.
Her breath hitched softly.
That small sound undid him.
It tore away any good intentions he might have entertained, the last bit of honor in his soul toward women in general and his respect for Liz in particular.
“I want you,” she whispered, her hand gently tugging at him, her heavy-lidded eyes beckoning him. . . .
Then she wet her lips and it was all John could do not to come then and there.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll shame myself,” he said, his voice a low, seductive exhalation directly into her ear. She shivered in response.
Liz was clearly enjoying herself. Though the store was dark, there were huge windows and people passing by on the sidewalk. She was not on display, but he was. He could tell she wouldn’t mind if he took her right there on the stool. But he knew she’d never be able to enter the luncheonette again without thinking of what they’d done on the stool, or the counter, or behind the counter or covered with chocolate syrup, so he stayed her hand and led her up the back stairs to his place.
The thought of licking chocolate syrup from her belly stayed with him through the first frenetic mating, dulled during the second, more tender and sensual connection, but returned after midnight when he went downstairs and helped himself to a cupful of liquid chocolate.
Hot fudge would never mean the same for John.
Chapter 32
Liz awoke with a start in the strange bed. Not strange, as her brain clicked in. John’s. The bedside clock read six. More than enough time to get downstairs, shower and get started for the day. But despite the stickiness clinging to her torso, she didn’t want to leave the rumpled bed just yet.
John stood in naked splendor just outside the door, reading a newspaper. His brow, arched low and menacing, matched the scowl on his sensuous lips, the lips that had given her so much delight just hours ago. Longing brought goose bumps to her skin and pebbled her nipples.
God, he was beautiful! What a splendid creature! Just looking at him made her wet. Snuggling deeper into the blanket, she thought about everything they’d done together. Warmth spread throughout her body, but the realization that daybreak had come and the endless thrills were not likely t
o be repeated made her eyes sting.
But night would come again. Maybe many nights, strung together in a glistening chain of incredible lovemaking. The prospect brought with it a satisfied quiver.
She ran her hand over one breast then the other to make sure she still had sensation in them, considering what they’d been through.
John stood in the open doorway, looking at her. She stared right back.
“Like what you see?” he inquired.
Liz propped herself up on one elbow and let the blanket fall. “Do you?”
He moved over to the bed, the set of his shoulders, the near strut to his stride being sheer animal arrogance on display. Liz allowed her eyes to rove, settling for more than a brief glance on his glorious body.
He laughed as he joined her on the bed, diving under the blanket to bring her to explosive climax one more time.
God, how happy I could be with this man.
He pulled himself up from the depths of the covers, his wickedness reflected in his teeth-baring grin. Liz thought she ought to say something. Or do something, yet when she reached for him, he grabbed her hand and held it.
The joy disappeared from his face.
Liz’s brain caught fire. No, he’s not going to do it! He’s not going to say “It’s been fun, kid, but it doesn’t mean anything”! Oh, no, oh, no! Don’t let him brush me off, dear God. Don’t let him do this to me!
John pulled her captive hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, then tenderly bit the muscle beneath her thumb.
Oh, no! This is the part where he tells me it’s not me, it’s him. She shook with the fear and rage building inside her.
“Liz, we have to talk.”
She fell back on the pillow. Her free hand went up to push the hair from her forehead. If there was going to be anything more than what she expected to hear, she had to be able to see all his expressions at once.
“You talk. I’ll listen.”
He moved alongside her, his long warm body touching hers wherever possible. “I . . . you know the scar . . . this one here on my shoulder?”
She nodded, mute for once.
“The man who shot me, the man who killed my partner, is back in town.”
Liz moved her arm so she could cover the ugly puckered scar with her fingers. She wanted to convey to him how it disturbed her, how she wished it had never happened, but didn’t think words would be appreciated now.
John’s head turned away briefly then his attention went back to her. “I have a job to do. I may be gone for a long time. Carly’s going to live with my parents if I can’t make it back here. But you . . . I don’t know what to do about you.”
What did he mean? Go away? Why? And send Carly away? Liz didn’t need much more to reach a conclusion.
“So, you’re leaving. You’ve taken care of Carly . . . that’s fine. She’s your daughter and you owe her something.”
He nipped her shoulder. “Yes, I owe her a lifetime, but I can’t give it to her.”
Her stomach turned liquid. “But you have to do the right thing! You’re not running away from her, are you?”
John shook his head. “That’s the last thing I want to do. But what I want and what I have to do are two different things.”
“What’s going on? Are you ill? You sound as if you’re going to die.”
He shrugged but traced his finger along the line of her jaw. This subtle lovemaking didn’t quite go with the words he managed to get out.
“Don’t try to make me shut up, Johnny.”
One side of his mouth went up ever so slightly, showing one deep dimple. “I’m not trying to. I just enjoy touching you, Liz.” He kissed her fingertips next and Liz tried to deny the sensation that ran straight to the core of her being. Distracting as it was, she wanted him to finish his thoughts.
“So? There’s more, Johnny. Out with it.”
John worked his hand to her breast and tweaked her swollen nipple, letting his fingers rest there, massaging and forcing Liz to squirm despite her desire to make him finish his little speech.
“Okay. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you, Liz. I don’t want you to think this night, or the other one, meant nothing to me, because they did. But I don’t know if there can ever be anything more to it. Not because I don’t want there to be . . . you get to me, Liz. You really do. With me it’s always been f . . . fornicate and forget. But not with you. You’ve stayed in my brain. But my future is . . . I don’t know if I even have a future here. Or anywhere. And I just wanted you to know that, whatever happens . . . I care for you. I care what you feel, what you think. I care about what lies ahead of you, but I do know that I won’t be around for you.”
His words rolled over, not settling into her brain, not fully understood, but not because she didn’t want to hear him. Little by little her mind wrapped around his meaning.
She brought her head up and looked him right in the eye. So that was his game. “Brush off, with explanation. Squirrelly explanation, but brush off, all the same.”
Heat rushed through her entire body as she swung her legs off the bed.
She’d Jersey herself out of this.
Grabbing the discarded sheet, she held it to her breast and faced John who, not yet wary, lazed on the mess of blankets.
“I didn’t come upstairs with you for anything other than a good screw, Preshin. I needed it. You evidently needed it. And I guess that’s all. Well, good-bye. It’s been nice knowin’ ya. See ya around . . . maybe.”
A pained look crossed his face, but he said nothing.
Liz stomped around the room, gathering up the clothing she’d discarded. Every single second of her evening replayed in her mind as she remembered how each garment came off.
And later on, lying in his arms feeling well loved and splendidly naked, she’d been on the verge of telling him how she felt about him! Thank God she hadn’t told him she loved him.
But her blood was up now and rational thought receded from her brain.
She could only find one shoe. Frustrated, she searched a bit, then as the anger boiled over, she threw the shoe at the reclining man and headed for the door.
“I’ll leave the sheet on the stairs. Cleaned.”
One last look, one last sight of him in that bed, that dark brown curl on his forehead, the blue beard beginning to tinge his jaw. For one brief moment, she thought she read regret in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash. Had she really seen it?
Or was it wishful thinking?
She’d bet on the latter.
A different crowd filled the soup bar Saturday. The early spring sunshine brought out more of the newer wave of inhabitants of Asbury Park. Liz had pulled out all the stops, preparing some of the more elaborate soups Flo had made and frozen in advance. Exotics like winter melon with mint and coriander, something heartier, a beef ragout to be eaten with bruschette, and cream of wild mushroom set tongues wagging with approval.
True to her word, Carly had appeared at ten and started right to work. Liz watched her when she got the chance, wondering if the kid knew what her father had in store for her or if Carly knew more about John’s situation than he’d told her last night.
“Hey, Liz, some of the guys asked me when the fountain was going to open.” Carly wiped her hands on a clean towel and sipped at a soda during a lull in the rush.
Liz stopped what she was doing, pushed away from the sink and blew the hair out of her eyes. Leaning against the clean prep table, she said, “Tell them it will open after Flo is back on her feet.”
Carly wrinkled her nose. “That’s kinda vague.”
“Tough shit,” Liz snapped. One look at Carly’s face and Liz broke down. “Oh, Carly, I didn’t mean that, honey. I’m just so . . . so not ready for making decisions without Flo. I’m . . . I . . . I just want to sit down and get myself together and I . . . we haven’t had a break all day.”
Concern creased Carly’s face. “Do you want to close early?”
Liz shook her head. �
��No. I just need to get off my feet. It’s almost closing time, anyway, and the crowd has thinned out. I can make it another hour.”
Inhaling sharply, Liz pushed away from the table. “Is John upstairs?”
Shaking her head, Carly told her no, she thought he said he had to go to the post office and the bank. Liz accepted this. She just wanted to make sure John was gone.
Carly looked as if she wanted to say more, but someone called for her so she left Liz to take the man’s money and gather up his generous tip. She smiled and the old guy winked at her and told her he’d be back.
Carly slipped the five buck tip into her apron pocket.
Mike genuflected in front of the altar and made the sign of the cross. He turned to find John standing in front of the altar rail.
“Hey, John.”
John dug his hands into his pockets. “Hey, yourself.”
Coming down the two steps, Mike didn’t smile. John knew how their last discussion had disturbed the priest. But he felt he owed it to the man to bring him up to date and remind him of his promise.
“I told her, Mike.”
The priest nodded. “And how did it go over with her?”
John had to fish for words. “Okay, I guess. She was shocked, I think. And upset and asked questions, which I answered. But I didn’t give her too much information because it seems as if her mother’s lawyers threatened us with a cease and desist, more or less. The kid figured out that her mother must be alive and that I’d been snooping around and I must have found her. I think that bothered her more than finding out I was her father.”
Mike nodded in understanding. “What else did you tell her?”
John turned away from the crucifix behind the altar, the grisly body of Christ looking over Mike’s shoulder at him with sorrow etched deeply into His face. “I didn’t tell her much of anything, but the kid overheard a discussion I had with Curtis.”
The priest’s eyes went cold. “What did she overhear, John? Your whole asshole plan?”
John jerked up his head. His friend’s slip of the tongue while in the church surprised him.
Glory Days Page 25
