by Nora Roberts
‘‘I’m not fighting with you, I’m saying it.’’ He stalked toward her, the swirling temper in his eyes surprising enough that she backed up against a tree.
‘‘I’ve heard you say it before,’’ she said evenly. ‘‘And it doesn’t change the facts. I work there, and I’m going to go on working there.’’
‘‘You need looking after.’’ It scraped him raw that he couldn’t be the one to do it.
‘‘I don’t.’’
Hell she didn’t. There were already tired smudges under those changeable green eyes, and now she was telling him she’d be carting trays until two in the morning. ‘‘Did you pay Dave for the car yet?’’
‘‘Half.’’ It was humiliating. ‘‘He was good enough to give me until next month to pay him the rest.’’
‘‘You won’t pay him.’’ That, at least, was something he could do. Would do, by Christ. ‘‘I will.’’
She forgot about humiliation. Her chin came up, sharp and fast as a bullet. ‘‘You will not.’’
Another time he would have persuaded, cajoled. Or simply done the deed on the quiet. But something was bubbling up in him—something that had been there, simmering, since he’d turned that morning and seen her. It wouldn’t let him think, only feel and act. With his eyes on hers he slipped a hand up, over her throat.
‘‘Be quiet.’’
‘‘I’m not a child, Ethan. You can’t—’’
‘‘I’m not thinking about you like a child.’’ Her eyes were bright and sharp. They were heating the something that was inside him to a boil. ‘‘I stopped being able to do that, and I can’t go back to it. Do what I want this time.’’
She didn’t know when her breath had started to back up or her skin to shiver. Dimly she felt the rough bark of the tree bite into her hands as she pressed them against it. She didn’t think he was talking about her accepting a few hundred dollars for a car any longer.
‘‘Ethan—’’
His other hand was on her breast. He hadn’t meant to put it there, but it covered her and his fingers began to flex and knead. Her shirt was still damp, just a little damp. He could feel her skin go hot under it. ‘‘Do what I want this time,’’ he repeated.
Her eyes were huge. He was falling into them, drowning in them. Her heart was pounding against his hand, as if he held it beating in his palm. His mouth crushed down on hers with a violent greed that he was for once helpless to stem. He heard her shocked cry muffled against his assaulting mouth. And it only thrilled him darkly.
The heat swarmed from him, stunning her. His teeth nipped roughly into her lip, making her gasp, openingherself to the swift and skillful invasion of his tongue.
Sensations flew too quickly to separate one from the other, but all were dark and keen and compelling. His hands were everywhere, tugging up her shirt, claiming her breasts, scraping those deliciously rough palms over her. She felt him quiver, gripped his shoulders to balance them both.
Then he was yanking at her shorts.
No! Part of her mind drew back in shock, all but screamed it. He couldn’t mean to take her, here, like this, only yards away from where people sat and children played. But another part of her simply moaned in shocked excitement and whispered yes.
Here. Now. Like this. Exactly like this.
When he drove into her, her scream would have carried some of both, but it was swallowed by his mouth, lost in his ragged breaths.
He thrust hard, fast, deep, his body surging into hers, his hands biting into her tight, round bottom as he plunged. His mind was wiped clean of everything but this one desperate need. When she came, exploding over him, around him, in him, his thrill was dark and primal and coated his skin with sweat.
His own climax had claws, hot-tipped, razor-sharp, that ripped through him brutally, so that his vision went red.
Even when it cleared he continued to shudder, to pant. Gradually he became aware of what was. He heard the wild drumming of a woodpecker deeper in the woods, the tinkle of laughter from beyond the trees. And Grace’s sobbing breaths.
He felt the breezing cooling his skin. And her trembles.
‘‘Oh, God. Goddamn it.’’ His curse was quiet, vicious.
‘‘Ethan?’’ She hadn’t known, would never have believed anyone could have such a need inside them. For her. ‘‘Ethan,’’ she said again and would have lifted her weak arms around him if he hadn’t stepped back.
‘‘I’m sorry. I—’’ There weren’t words. Nothing he could say would be right, would be enough. He bent, slipped her shorts back up, fastened them. With the same deliberate care, he straightened her shirt. ‘‘I can’t offer you an excuse for that. There isn’t any.’’
‘‘I don’t want an excuse. I don’t ever need one for what we do together, Ethan.’’
He stared at the ground while a sick pounding began in his head. ‘‘I didn’t give you a choice.’’ He knew what it was not to have a choice.
‘‘I’ve already made my choice. I love you.’’
He looked at her then, everything that lived inside of him swirling into his eyes. Her mouth was swollen where he’d ravished it. Her eyes were enormous. Her body would carry bruises from his hands. ‘‘You deserve better.’’
‘‘I like to think I deserve you. You made me feel . . . desired. That’s not even the word.’’ She pressed a hand to her still speeding heart. ‘‘Craved,’’ she realized. ‘‘Craved. And now I’m sorry . . .’’ Her gaze flicked away from his. ‘‘I’m sorry for any woman who’s never known what it is to be craved.’’
‘‘I scared you.’’
‘‘For a minute.’’ Mortified, she blew out a breath. ‘‘Damn it, Ethan, do I have to tell you that I liked it? I felt helpless and overpowered and it was so exciting. You lost control, and you have this incredibly unshakablecontrol most of the time. I liked knowing that something I did, or something I am, snapped it.’’
He pulled his hand through his hair. ‘‘You confuse me, Grace.’’
‘‘I don’t mean to. But I don’t think that’s such a bad thing, either.’’
He let out a sigh, then stepped forward just enough that he could smooth her tousled hair into place. ‘‘Maybe the trouble is we’ve been thinking we know each other so well. But we don’t have all the pieces.’’ He picked up her hand, studied it with that thoughtful frown she loved. Then he kissed her fingers in a way that made her lashes flutter.
‘‘I don’t ever want to hurt you. In any way.’’ But he had, and he would.
He kept his hand in hers as he walked her back toward the sunlight. He would have to tell her about those pieces of himself soon. So she would understand why he couldn’t give her more.
FIFTEEN
‘‘ SO, I DON’T KNOW IF I’m going to go out with him anymore because he’s getting way too possessive, you know? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you gotta live, right?’’
Julie Cutter crunched into the shiny green apple she’d plucked out of the fruit bowl in Grace’s kitchen. She felt every bit as much at home there as she did next door. Comfortable, she hitched herself up to sit on the counter while Grace folded laundry on the table.
‘‘Plus,’’ Julie went on, gesturing with her apple, ‘‘I met this incredibly cute guy. He works at the computer store at the mall? He wears these little metal-frame glasses and has the sweetest smile.’’ She grinned, lighting up her pretty heart-shaped face. ‘‘I asked him for his phone number, and he blushed.’’
‘‘You asked him for his phone number?’’ Grace was listening with only half an ear. She loved it when Julie came over just to visit. She was always so full of fun and talk and energy. But today it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was so full of what had happened between her and Ethan in those shady woods. What had leapt out of him to devour her—and why it had left him so distant afterward?
‘‘Sure.’’ Julie cocked her head, her brown eyes full of humor. ‘‘Didn’t you ever ask a guy out? Come on, Grace, we’re at the dawn of th
e next millennium here. Most of them really like it when the woman takes the initiative. Anyway . . .’’ She shook back her long fall of straight-as-a-pin brown hair. ‘‘Jeff did—the sexy computer nerd? He got all flustered at first, but then he gave it to me, and when I called him I could tell he was happy about it. So we’re going out Saturday, but I have to break up with Don first.’’
‘‘Poor Don,’’ Grace murmured, and glanced over absently as Aubrey knocked over the block tower she’d been building, then applauded its destruction.
‘‘Oh, he’ll get over it.’’ Julie shrugged. ‘‘It’s not like he’s in love with me or anything. He’s just used to having a chick.’’
Grace had to smile. A few months earlier, Julie had been wild about Don, rushing over to tell Grace every detail of their dates. Or, Grace suspected, at least an edited version of their dates. ‘‘You told me Don was the one.’’
‘‘He was.’’ Julie laughed. ‘‘For a while. I’m not ready for the only one yet.’’
Grace went to the refrigerator to pour the three of them a drink. At Julie’s age—nineteen—she’d been pregnant, married, and worried about paying bills. She was only three years older than Julie, but it might as well have been three hundred. ‘‘You’re right to look around, to be sure.’’ She handed Julie a glass, held her gaze for a moment. ‘‘To be careful.’’
‘‘I’m careful, Grace,’’ Julie assured her, touched. ‘‘I’d like to be married one day. Especially if it means having a baby as beautiful as Aubrey. But I want to finish college, then see some of the world. Do . . . things,’’ she added, gesturing widely. ‘‘I don’t want to find myself tied down, changing diapers and working at some dead-end job because I let some guy talk me into . . .’’
She trailed off, suddenly and sincerely appalled at herself. Eyes huge and apologetic, she slid off the counter. ‘‘God, I’m sorry. I can be so thick sometimes. I didn’t mean that you—’’
‘‘It’s all right.’’ She gave Julie’s arm a quick squeeze. ‘‘That’s exactly what I did, exactly what I let happen to me. I’m glad you’re smarter.’’
‘‘I’m a moron,’’ Julie murmured, very close to tears. ‘‘I’m an insensitive clod. I’m hateful.’’
‘‘No, you’re not.’’ Grace gave a light laugh and picked up a pair of Aubrey’s rompers from the basket. ‘‘You didn’t hurt my feelings. I’d hate to think we weren’t friends enough for you to be able to say what you think.’’
‘‘You’re one of my best friends. And I’ve got a big mouth.’’
‘‘Well, you do.’’ Grace chuckled at Julie’s wince. ‘‘But I like it.’’
‘‘I love you and Aubrey, Grace.’’
‘‘I know you do. Now stop worrying about it, and tell me where you’re going with Jeff the cute computer guy?’’
‘‘Safe date. Movies and pizza.’’ Julie let out a soft sigh of relief. She’d have . . . shaved her head and dyed itpurple, she decided, before she’d do anything to hurt Grace. Hoping to make up, just a little, for her insensitivity, she beamed a smile.
‘‘You know, I’d be happy to keep Aubrey on your next night off if you and Ethan want to go out.’’
Grace had finished folding the rompers and started on socks. She stopped, staring, with a tiny white sock trimmed in yellow in each hand. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘You know—catch a movie, go to a restaurant, whatever.’’ She wiggled her brows on the ‘‘whatever,’’ then fought to bite back a grin at Grace’s expression. ‘‘You’re not going to stand there and tell me you’re not seeing Ethan Quinn.’’
‘‘Well, he’s . . . I’m . . .’’ She looked helplessly down at Aubrey.
‘‘If it was supposed to be a secret, he should be parking his truck somewhere other than your driveway on the nights he sleeps over.’’
‘‘Oh, God.’’
‘‘What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re having this illicit affair—like Mr. Wiggins has been having with Mrs. Lowen on Monday afternoons at the motel on Route 13.’’ At Grace’s strangled sound, Julie just shrugged. ‘‘My friend Robin’s working there and taking night classes at the college, and she says how he checks in everyThursday morning at ten-thirty while she waits in her car. Anyway—’’
‘‘What must your mother think?’’ Grace whispered.
‘‘Mom? About Mr. Wiggins? Well—’’
‘‘No, no.’’ Grace didn’t want to think about the portly Mr. Wiggins’s weekly motel romp. ‘‘About . . .’’
‘‘Oh, you and Ethan. I think she said something about ‘high time.’ Mom’s not an idiot. He’s such a hunk, ’’ Julie said with feeling. ‘‘I mean, the way he fills out a T-shirt is awesome. And that smile. It takes, like, ten minutes for it to finish moving over his face, and by then, man, you are drooling. Robin and I went down to the waterfront every day for a month last summer just to watch him offload his catch.’’
‘‘You did?’’ Grace said weakly.
‘‘We both built a real case on him.’’ She reached into the white stoneware cookie jar and found two oatmeal raisins. ‘‘I flirted with him, big time, whenever I got the chance.’’
‘‘You . . . flirted with Ethan.’’
‘‘Mmm.’’ She nodded, swallowing cookie. ‘‘Really put some effort into it, too. Mostly I think it embarrassed him, but I got a couple of great smiles out of him.’’ She smiled sunnily when Grace kept staring. ‘‘Oh, I’m way over it now, so don’t worry.’’
‘‘Good.’’ Grace picked up the drink she’d neglected and drank deeply. ‘‘That’s good.’’
‘‘Still, he’s got a terrific butt.’’
‘‘Oh, Julie.’’ Grace bit her lip to keep from giggling and sent a meaningful look toward her daughter.
‘‘She’s not listening. So, anyway, how’d I get started on this? Oh, yeah, I’ll keep Aubrey for you if you want to go out.’’
‘‘I, well, thanks.’’ She was trying to decide if she wanted to get well off the subject of Ethan Quinn, or linger on it, when she heard a knock and saw him standing at her front door.
‘‘Like magic,’’ Julie murmured, and romance bloomed in her heart. ‘‘You know, why don’t I take Aubrey over to see Mom for a while? I’ll just keep her and feed her dinner.’’
‘‘But I don’t have to leave for work for nearly an hour yet.’’
Julie rolled her eyes. ‘‘So make good use of the time, pal.’’ Then she scooped Aubrey up. ‘‘Want to come to my house, Aubrey? See my kitty cat?’’
‘‘Oooh, kitty. Bye, Mama.’’
‘‘Oh, but—’’ They were already sailing out of her back door, with Aubrey calling for the kitty and waving madly. She looked at Ethan again, staring at his face through the screen, then lifted her hands.
He decided to take it as an invitation and stepped inside. ‘‘Was that Julie who ran off with Aubrey?’’
‘‘Yes. She’s going to let Aubrey play with her kitten and have dinner over there.’’
‘‘It’s nice you have someone like Julie to look after her.’’
‘‘I’d be lost without Julie.’’ Puzzled, Grace angled her head. He was standing awkwardly, a hand tucked behind his back. ‘‘Is something wrong? Did you hurt your hand?’’
‘‘No.’’ What an idiot he was, Ethan thought, offering her the flowers he had held behind him. ‘‘I thought you might like some.’’ He wanted, desperately, to find ways to make up to her for the way he’d treated her in the woods.
‘‘You brought me flowers.’’
‘‘I stole some here and there. You may not want to mention it to Anna. I got the tiger lilies off the side of the road. They’re blooming thick this year.’’
He’d picked her flowers. Not store-bought flowers but ones he’d stopped and selected and plucked with his own hands. On a long, trembling sigh, she buried her face in them. ‘‘They’re beautiful.’’
‘‘They made me think of you. Almost everything does.’’ And when sh
e lifted her head, when he saw that her eyes were stunned and soft, he wished he had more words, better ones, smoother ones. ‘‘I know you only have the one night off now. I’d like to take you to dinner if you don’t have any plans.’’
‘‘To dinner?’’
‘‘There’s a place Anna and Cam like up in Princess Anne. Suit-and-tie place, but they claim the food’s worth it. Would you like to?’’
She realized she was nodding her head like a fool and made herself stop. ‘‘I’d like that.’’
‘‘I’ll come by for you. About six-thirty?’’
There went her head, bobbing again like a spring robin drunk on worms. ‘‘Fine. That’d be fine.’’
‘‘I can’t stay now because they’re expecting me at the boatyard.’’
‘‘That’s all right.’’ She wondered if her eyes were as huge as they felt. She could have devoured him with them. ‘‘Thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.’’
‘‘You’re welcome.’’ And with his eyes open, he leaned over, laid his lips on hers very gently, very softly. He watched her lashes flutter, watched the green of her irises go misty under those tiny flecks of gold. ‘‘I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.’’
Her muscles had turned to putty. ‘‘Tomorrow,’’ she managed and breathed out a long, long sigh as he walked away and out her front door.
He’d brought her flowers. She clasped the stems in both hands, held them out and waltzed through the house with them. Beautiful, fragrant, soft-petaled flowers. And if some of those petals drifted to the floor as she danced, it only made the scene more romantic.
They made her feel like a princess, like a woman. She sniffed them lavishly as she circled back into the kitchen for a vase. Like a bride.
She stopped abruptly, staring at them. Like a bride.
Her head went light, her skin hot, her hands trembly. When she realized she was holding her breath, she let it out with a whoosh, but it caught and stumbled as she tried to pull air in again.
