Someone Like Her

by Janice Kay Johnson

  A little shyly, she reached out and tugged his shirt up in turn. He let her pull it off. He had a glorious chest: broad and powerful without being overmuscled, the dark hair silky under her questing hands. In her curiosity, the urgency had abated, and Adrian seemed willing to let her explore. He touched her, and she touched him. He nuzzled her breasts and suckled them in turn; she kissed his chest and licked the base of his throat where she felt his pulse hammering. Lucy loved the salty taste of his skin and did it again.

  He tried to laugh, but she heard the desperation in it. He said, “Maybe the next time,” which she didn’t understand, and pushed her onto her back. The ache in her lower belly was back, and the feel of him unzipping her jeans was almost unbearable. He pulled her panties off with the jeans.

  Lucy couldn’t help herself. Her thighs pressed together and her hands went down to cover herself. Adrian laughed again, but shakily. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

  “I—I can’t help it,” she whispered.

  “Would it help if I take my pants off?”

  She might be even more self-conscious, but she nodded anyway, shockingly eager to see him. Adrian pulled back from her far enough to shed his khakis and shoes. Lucy’s belly cramped at the sight of him. She was sure neither of her college boyfriends had been anywhere near as large. That should have frightened her but instead was awfully exciting.

  He laid down on the bed beside her, on his side facing her. “Touch me,” he said, his voice guttural.

  Lucy stole a glance upward at his face. His eyes still had that molten look, as if heat burned inside him. He nodded once. She put her hands on his chest again. That felt almost safe. Except that he was very warm, and his heart hammered so hard it seemed to resonate through her. And the way his muscles jumped as her hands moved downward gave her a heady sense of power.

  When she finally touched him there, his whole body spasmed. Her exploration didn’t last very long. All of a sudden he pushed her onto her back and rose above her. “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t take any more.”

  Somehow he was the one exploring now, his hands sliding up her legs, tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her legs were splayed wantonly apart with no conscious order from her. When his fingers curled in her pubic hair, her hips rose from the bed in an agony of wanting. He parted moist flesh and stroked, with her gripping his shoulders so hard her fingernails must have been digging in.

  The tension rose in her belly, coiled exquisitely tight, driven as much by the sight of the expression on his face as by his touch. “Adrian?” Her voice shook. “I want you. Not just—”

  “This?” His fingers drew circles.

  “Please!” she gasped.

  He made a raw sound and turned away. The sound of ripping made her realize he’d come prepared. Thank goodness. During the drive, she’d thought about asking, then forgot in the enormity of the decision. She should have bought some condoms, but she’d have had to drive to Sequim to do it. That was the trouble with a town where everyone knew you.

  He was back so quickly she didn’t have time to feel anything but gratitude. He stroked her again and again, pressing, pressing…No, not with his hands, they were cupping her face as he looked into her eyes and pushed slowly forward, deeper. Her breath snagged in her throat as he filled her. The sensation was amazing, exactly what she’d needed. She lifted her hips to meet him and breathed a high, “Ooh!” that would have embarrassed her at any other moment.

  Every muscle in his back was rigid with restraint. His teeth bared as he paused, buried in her. Lucy closed her eyes, savored the feeling, then rocked just enough to let him know she was ready for more.

  He pulled out slowly, then thrust again a little harder, a little faster. It felt so good. No, amazing. Her fingers dug into his back. Out, in, each thrust more powerful, more urgent. His chest vibrated with a groan. Lucy whimpered.

  Oh, yes. She felt like a bomb with the spark racing down the fuse toward her body. She could all but see it behind her eyelids, a flare of fire crackling, almost there, almost…

  She imploded, a wave of pleasure that thundered through her like a tsunami beyond anything she’d ever felt.

  He let go a second later, slamming into her, his body shuddering, a groan escaping against her cheek as he pressed his open mouth to it.

  Lucy held on tight and rode the wave, high on it even as it tumbled her dizzyingly over and over.

  The tsunami washed out slowly, leaving tingles and ripples in its wake. Lucy lay boneless beneath him, feeling both drained and utterly relaxed and energized all at once. A secret smile curved her mouth.

  Now that was an adventure!

  Adrian rolled at last, taking her along so that she sprawled atop him. When she lifted her head to look down at his face, he grinned at her. “So. Was it different?”

  “Yes! Oh, yes! I had no idea.” She marveled. “Was it my fault before? Or the guys’ fault?”

  He laughed, the skin beside his eyes crinkling, and she could see he felt a little smug. “Sex is rarely as good as that was. Rarely? Try never. What we just did takes…”

  When he paused, she filled in silently. Love. It takes love.

  “Chemistry,” Adrian finished. “Something special.”

  Love.

  As quickly as joy had swelled in her chest, it evaporated, leaving her so sad she hid her face against his neck so that he wouldn’t see.

  His hand stroked idly down her back, kneading here, teasing there, learning her contours.

  “God, I wish I didn’t have to go back to Seattle,” he muttered suddenly.

  Lucy bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She had an intense inner struggle to master herself, then lifted her head. “Oh? Are you having to go back right away?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’ve stayed longer than I should.” His hand kept moving, pressing harder, imbued it seemed with some of the same tension she now felt. “I’ll be back next weekend, I promise, but I have to show my face at the firm.”

  “Oh. What if your mother…?”

  “Wakes up? She’ll do it with me or without me.” He sounded grim, either because he was convincing himself his mother didn’t really need him at all, or because he hated the idea of her opening her eyes when he wasn’t here to greet her.

  Lucy nodded, wordless, even though she couldn’t imagine being in his position and heading back to work as though the mother he’d sought for over half his life wasn’t about to emerge from a coma.

  Maybe, she thought doubtfully, he didn’t care as much as she’d wanted to believe he did. Maybe he was fighting the fact that he did care more than he was comfortable with.

  Or maybe she was being naive. After all, it wasn’t reasonable for him to risk his position at the law firm and with his clients so that he could linger indefinitely in Middleton, holding his unconscious mother’s hand.

  Yes, that was it, she decided. Wanted to believe. He was just being…realistic.

  And he did say he’d be back next weekend. So he wasn’t cutting and running now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her.

  She gave a nod and what she meant to be an accepting smile. He searched her face, his own suddenly taut with…she didn’t know. Frustration? Desire? Even anger?

  At me? Lucy wondered, before he growled something under his breath and pulled her head down so that he could kiss her with a hunger as desperate as if they hadn’t just made love.

  It seemed he wanted her again. She hadn’t thought people did it again so soon after the first time, but her body responded with startling enthusiasm. She might be heartsick, but oh, she wanted him while she had him here, with her. And he must feel the same, because before she knew it he was swearing and fumbling for another condom, and she was completely ready.

  Apparently, Lucy discovered that night, sexual satisfaction was only temporary. And people could not only make love again right away, but they could also do it three times. And, after a little sleep, a fourth time.

  Sleep wasn�
�t nearly as important as she’d thought it was.

  LUCY PUT A brave face on it, but Adrian could tell she was shocked by his departure the next morning. He’d been warning her that he’d have to go, but she’d evidently convinced herself that he would stay at his mother’s side however long it took her to wake up.

  If she woke up.

  His faith was eroding. Yeah, her coma had become lighter. But he’d seen no change in days now. Sure, she twitched and even seemed to flinch from bright light, but did that necessarily mean she hadn’t suffered acute brain damage? Reflexes weren’t the same thing as the conscious self that made a person individual. Yes, there were stories about people who’d been in comas for months or even years waking up and being themselves again, but they were the exceptions. News-worthy. What were the chances his mother would be one of them?

  Unlike him, Lucy would never give up hope. Her tenacity was one of the qualities that made her so different from anyone else he’d ever known.

  That had made him fall in love with her.

  She’d insisted on making breakfast. Staying to eat it prolonged the misery of the goodbye, in his opinion, but he couldn’t deny her anything. She chattered, and he did his best to respond without being able, an hour later, to remember a single thing either of them had said. He was willing to bet she couldn’t, either.

  Behind her smile, she looked so forlorn when she walked him to the door, he felt as if someone was clawing his chest open. It hurt, kissing her one more time then walking to his car. He’d wondered briefly if he was having a heart attack.

  At the inn, Samantha gave him a look he ignored. He went upstairs and packed, then came down and settled his bill. Her expression relaxed slightly when he reserved the same room for Friday and Saturday night the coming weekend, and he realized she’d been indignant on her sister’s behalf.

  Middleton barely showed in his rearview mirror before the forest closed around the road, and within minutes he’d arrived at Highway 101. There was the sign: Middleton, 5 miles.

  Five miles, and in another universe.

  A semi roared by, followed by an RV and a couple of campers. People who’d taken an extended weekend over here on the peninsula, and were now heading home. They probably never even saw the sign for Middleton, or gave a passing thought to who would live out here in the middle of nowhere and why.

  How in hell, he wondered again, had his mother ended up here, of all places?

  Then he turned onto the highway, and Middleton fell behind him.

  FOUR DAYS LATER, it seemed as remote and unlikely as Timbuktu.

  Lucy, he missed. Middleton, however, took on a hazy, unreal quality in his mind, rather like the memories he’d been dredging from the distant past that included his mother. They were actual memories, yes; but perfectly recalled? Probably not. They were colored by family tensions, by his mood, by his limited understanding, and ultimately by her disappearance. He couldn’t be sure anything had happened the way he remembered it.

  The first day or two in Seattle, he felt buffeted by the noise and speed of traffic and the crowds and the urgency with which people strode the sidewalks. He had some trouble concentrating, would find himself gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window in his office without really seeing the cityscape beyond the glass. He kept battling a feeling that nothing around him was real.

  By Wednesday, it was Middleton he knew to be unreal. He’d felt a familiar surge of anger at the shoddy research a couple of associates had done in his absence. There was ice in his voice when he told them what he thought and sent them back to do it right. He snapped out orders for Carol to put through calls or check his schedule or find out why information wasn’t right where he wanted it when he wanted it. He thought about Lucy sometimes, his chest tight, about his mother less often. Middleton itself, with its old-fashioned air, seemed as illusory as a Wild West town on the Disney lot. For all he knew, residents had engaged in an elaborate conspiracy to bamboozle the big-city attorney. Why they would have bothered, he couldn’t imagine, and didn’t care. He was back to figuring how quickly he could get his mother moved to an assisted-living facility here in Seattle, and Lucy into his condo and bed.

  He called her twice, but both conversations were briefer than he would have liked and stilted. He said, “I miss you,” and she said it, too. Otherwise, she told him that no, his mother hadn’t opened her eyes yet, although she thought any day it would happen, and that he’d missed the chance to try her famous potato soup today. He was the one with almost nothing to say. She wouldn’t get what he’d done all day, he told himself. You mean she wouldn’t approve, a voice whispered. She would listen with bewilderment if he tried to explain why he was fighting tooth and nail to defend a corporation engaged in unethical practices. So he didn’t try, merely said, “Doing my best,” when she asked if he was catching up at work.

  Friday he worked until 8:00 in the evening. Adrian would have waited to drive over until morning if it hadn’t been for thoughts of Lucy. Hell, if not for Lucy he wouldn’t have gone at all. He’d fallen so far behind at work, he might never catch up. The last thing he should be doing was heading out of town for the weekend.

  But…he couldn’t get her out of his head. The café was open and busy tonight, of course, but if he got a move on he could be waiting when she closed.

  Mind made up, he packed a bag swiftly and caught a late ferry to Bainbridge. He didn’t go up to the observation deck, but got out of his car and leaned on the railing, catching the sea air, hearing the gulls cry and watching the sun drop behind the Olympic Mountains, jagged and white-tipped. For the first time all week, some of the tension left his neck and shoulders, the sharp-edged impatience and drive that kept him going blunted.

  The drive felt weirdly familiar this time. It seemed to go more quickly, as if his car leaped eagerly forward. His thoughts kept jumping between work and Lucy, with his mother slipping in occasionally.

  Why the hell hadn’t Brock returned his call? If he thought he could keep dodging…Lucy’s face, dirt-smudged but shining from within as she admired her newly planted flower beds. What kind of bad luck had gotten Judge Roberta Easton assigned to the Par Tex case? The damned woman drove a hybrid and was a vegan, for God’s sake. What were the chances she’d rule fairly when big business clashed with the Sierra Club et al? Push her into saying something inflammatory. Yeah, that might work. Then he could demand a change of courtroom. His mother, young and pretty, laughing gaily; her face shifting, changing, aging, going still and unresponsive against the white pillow. Beep, beep, beep, life support.

  He couldn’t remember disliking a client as much as he did Lyle Galbreath, the young CEO of Par Tex, accused of sliding around environmental regulations. Listening politely, attentively, his thoughts hidden, Adrian had wondered what it would be like to defend someone he’d known for years, someone who was scared and troubled and heartsick—or, God, actually innocent. Someone with a good side and maybe a bad side but also a sense of remorse, who was thinking about something besides profit.

  Lucy’s voice, rich and expressive, reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Tremulous. “I want you.” She’d wanted all of him. Would she still want him once she understood that his livelihood was defending scum like Lyle Galbreath? Would she want his heart?

  His headlights picked out the sign: Middleton, 5 miles. He turned, darkness closing around his car, the headlights finding only the yellow stripe down the center of the deserted highway and the trees choking it on both sides. It was suddenly like being a kid who’d opened the closet door to find a path leading into a mist-wreathed forest instead of his clothes on hangers. Last time he’d felt reluctant incredulity. This time…he hardly knew. He found himself looking ahead eagerly for the first lights. There was some of the same disorientation, but also a sense of homecoming. He knew every business on Main Street. He’d smile and nod at people coming out of the café, because he’d met them, or knew they were related to Lucy however distantly, or had been kind to his mother.

 
Did he have time to go to the hospital first? He glanced at his watch. Would they let him in this late? Probably. In a small-town hospital like Middleton, nobody was big on rules.

  The café wouldn’t close for another fifteen minutes. Lucy would be stuck there for another hour at least. Adrian made up his mind. He had time.

  So instead of turning to go downtown, he continued toward the hospital. His foot lifted briefly from the gas pedal when he passed Safeway. He never went by the spot where his mother had been hit without looking, as if he might see a ghostly reincarnation of the accident. Middleton seemed like the kind of place where it might even be possible.

  The information desk at the hospital was dark and deserted. Adrian made his way upstairs, remembering his first time here. Only this was different, of course. The nurse at the station looked up and beamed at the sight of him. “Mr. Rutledge! Your mother’s been so restless today. I know she’ll be glad you’re back.”

  “Do you mind if I go in for a minute?” he asked. “I know it’s past visiting hours—”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said comfortably. “Take your time. She doesn’t have a roommate you’d be disturbing. I haven’t turned out her light yet.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he circled the drawn curtain and went to his mother’s bedside, he expected her to be sleeping, as the entire hospital seemed to be around them. Instead, to his shock, he found her head turned on the pillow so that she could scowl fiercely at the empty chair. Her mouth worked, as though she desperately wanted to say something.

  “Mom?” He reached out and took her hand. “Mom, it’s Adrian. Are you all right?”

  Stupid question. What did he expect? Yes, dear, of course I am?

  But she gripped his hand. This time, it couldn’t be in his imagination. Her fingers bit into his and her head rolled frantically on the pillow. Restless, the nurse had said. More as if she were just below the surface, fighting her way up.

  “Hey. It’ll come,” he said. “Don’t worry.”