Now That I've Found You

by Bella Andre

  Fierce heat rose again inside Drake, but it wasn't directed at his dad anymore. Shame had made his mother so paranoid that she couldn't imagine living. Shame had made his father bottle up his feelings for thirty years. Shame had sent Rosa into hiding.

  "I'm saying we should all give shame and guilt a big fat kick in the ass and start the hell over."

  "A fresh start." A tear rolled down his father's face as he reached out to put a hand over Drake's. "That's what I want too."

  "Me too," Suz said through her tears as she put her arms around their father and held on tight. Harry came around on their father's other side and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

  Only Alec stayed apart, his face an unreadable mask as he slid his chair back from the table, then walked out of the house without a word.

  *

  Drake caught his brother in the driveway getting into his car.

  "I'm happy for you," Alec said before Drake could say anything, "but I'm not going to pretend to play happy family with William now that he's suddenly ready to be a father."

  Drake understood that, as the oldest, Alec's experience of their mother's leaving had been different. Of the four of them, he'd not only spent the most time with her, but he'd also been old enough to understand that she wasn't ever coming back.

  Knowing he had to tread carefully, Drake said, "I know we haven't solved everything. Not even close. But tonight was a step in the right direction. To finally get honest answers to the questions none of us have ever felt we could ask."

  "Mom was just like he said--she barely touched the ground. It almost seemed as if she might just float away sometimes." Alec looked toward the cottage where their father stored the paintings of their mother, then shook his head as if he didn't want to think about any of it anymore. "I need to head back to the city. Let me know if Rosa needs my help with anything. I'm happy to lend her one of my personal planes if she needs to go somewhere in stealth mode."

  There was no point in reminding his brother that he'd said he'd spend the night in the Adirondacks. Not now that Alec had locked down. So instead of talking more about their father, Drake said, "Something tells me Rosa's done with stealth mode. But thanks for being on her side. Mine too." Alec was shutting his door when Drake said, "I'll hold on to your paintings until you want them."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Drake was still standing in the driveway watching the dust from Alec's tires settle when Rosa slid her hand into his. She didn't ask if he was okay, just let him lead them silently through the woods to a private cove. Far enough from his father's house that no one could see or hear them. And dark enough that they were barely shadows as he drew her out of the trees and toward the water.

  "I need you," he said as he began to strip away her clothes. "Here. Now."

  "I need you too." She put her hands on his face. "I love you."

  The words of love from her lips--and the love he could feel in her kiss--sent him reeling even faster, even harder, than tonight's dinner discussion had.

  "I love you so much." She rained kisses over his face. "I should have told you before, but I was scared. I'm still scared of plenty of things, but not of what I feel for you. I'll never be scared of that again."

  "Mine." He crushed her mouth, her body, against his. "I want you to be mine. Forever."

  "Good, because I'm not going to let you go, no matter what people say. No matter what they think."

  He knew exactly how strong she was--how strong she'd always been--but hearing her say the words was huge. "I love you, Rosa. That's never going to change. No matter what."

  The moon was shrouded by clouds, but even in the pitch darkness, he knew her expressions, her body, by heart. He loved her little gasps of pleasure as he slowly lowered her bra straps from each shoulder and pressed kisses all along the skin he'd just bared. She gripped his shoulders as if to hold herself steady, her breath coming faster and faster the closer he got to her breasts, his tongue sliding in damp circles along the soft flesh. Finally, he found one taut tip, her breath going as he drew it between his lips and suckled.

  Greed took over as he cupped her breasts to take both into his mouth at once. She rocked her hips against his as he ran his tongue over her. Threading her hands into his hair, she pulled his mouth back up to hers, kissing him with fierce passion.

  "Take me, Drake." She dropped her hands to his shirt and nearly tore it off in her need to get him naked. "Here." He'd only just pulled a condom out of his back pocket when she yanked the button and zipper of his jeans open and shoved them down. "Now."

  Their hands met on her waistband, both of them working to get rid of the last barrier between them. As soon as they'd slid protection on his throbbing length, he lifted her up into his arms. When she wrapped her legs around him, he cupped her luscious hips in his hands and brought her even closer.

  Drake wanted to start clean with everyone and everything tonight. He'd always been drawn to water--not only painting it, but diving in, going deep, and coming up feeling renewed. Thankfully, there was enough moonlight now to safely take them down the sandy path to the hidden cove.

  Holding on tight with her strong arms around his neck, Rosa nuzzled him as he carried her into the water, making him even crazier for her as she ran her nose, her lips, her tongue, over him.

  "Tell me if it's too cold," he said when her feet and hips were submerged.

  "Take me under, Drake. Take me all the way." Her teeth nipped at his earlobe. "A little cold water isn't going to break me. Nothing can anymore. Not now that I've found you...and you helped me find myself again."

  He took her mouth in a savage kiss, one that captivated.

  Enthralled.

  Consumed.

  All his life Drake had held a part of himself back to make sure that he wouldn't end up following in his father's footsteps. But he didn't need to hold back with Rosa. Not when he knew she wouldn't break.

  And neither would he.

  They were only partially submerged when he lifted her hips, then plunged her down onto him, hard and deep. She gasped into his mouth as her inner muscles gripped him in a hot, wet, perfect clasp.

  "Drake." Nothing had ever sounded as good as his name on her lips. Nothing but, "I love you."

  Wet and wild together, they tumbled in the water, their mouths fused even as they momentarily went under. They came apart just long enough to catch their footing and reach for each other again, her arms around his back, her legs around his hips as he braced himself above her, then drove deep again.

  On the shore, with the water lapping over their naked bodies, they were shameless in their passion for one other. Reckless in their quest for pleasure beyond anything either of them had ever known. Utterly abandoned and unrestrained as their sounds of bliss rose in the darkness.

  And as they gave each other everything, Drake knew that no matter what happened with Rosa's mother or his father or her TV show--or any other hurdles that might come up in the future--they already had everything that mattered.

  Each other.

  *

  Rosa wanted to stay there forever in the lake wrapped all around Drake. Still, she knew he was right to get them out and dressed before a chill could set in. And it felt so intimate, zipping and buttoning him into his clothes, then letting him do the same with hers.

  What had begun as a terrible week had ended with such beauty. And more love than she'd ever thought possible.

  Rosa suddenly remembered her mother's email: We can turn something terrible into something amazing.

  Earlier that week, when she'd read those words on the burner phone in her Montauk motel room, she'd been sickened at the thought of exploiting the nude photos--and people's pity--to make more money with their family brand or to build up her fan base.

  Tonight, she saw things differently. Clearly.

  "I know what I need to do." To turn terrible into amazing. "I know what to say to all the women who think they need to run and hide."

  The moonlight illuminated Drake's
smile as he paused while finger-combing sand from her tangled hair. "Of course you do."

  "But I need to talk with my mom before I do anything else." She looked out at the lake, breathed in the fresh scent of the mountains. "I just wish I didn't have to go back to Miami so soon. I really love it here. I don't want to leave."

  "You don't need to. Alec can fly her in--tomorrow, if she can come that fast. There's a private landing strip a couple of miles away. And we'll make sure the press doesn't follow her here if you don't want them to."

  A zing of nerves hit Rosa, twisting together in the pit of her stomach. She honestly didn't know how her mother would react to anything she was planning to say. Then again, after sitting at William's table tonight and seeing what was possible when family wasn't afraid to open up to each other, she felt hopeful that she and her mother might be able to find their way too.

  Still, she needed Drake to know something. "While Alec and I talked, and he did apologize, he warned me not to hurt you. I'm not sure that means he's ready to lend me a plane for my mom."

  "He's the oldest, so that's his standard speech." He brushed sand from her neck and made her shiver at how good his touch felt. Always. "Trust me, he's on your side. We'll call him to make the arrangements as soon as we get back to the house. What else do you need?"

  Rosa's head was still spinning from their extraordinary lovemaking. She'd never given her entire self to anyone before, nor had she ever taken all a man had to give. Her body, her heart, were both still so full. And growing fuller by the second as Drake offered her more and more.

  "I'm going to need somewhere big enough to fit a film crew."

  "My father's house is big enough."

  "He's a private man, and my staying with him is already potentially invasive for the quiet life he's tried to build here. I can't bring a film crew in too. Besides, you don't even know what I want to film yet."

  "I don't have to know to be certain that it's going to be great."

  She threw her arms around him and kissed him. "If I could feel my feet, I'd drag you back into the lake and jump you again."

  "There's a cottage just beyond these trees. It's closer than the house so that we can get you warm faster. Now, tell me your plans."

  "I found out that the network wants to do a special two-hour show, but I wasn't going to do it because I couldn't stand the idea of using what happened as a springboard for more money, more followers, bigger ad contracts." They were on the threshold of his father's small cottage when she said, "But I've realized that if millions of people are going to tune in, even if most of them probably think they're going to see a train wreck, I can use that time to do something good. Something that might help."

  "I know the perfect place. My friend Calvin is the mayor. The city hall building is classic without being stuffy. I'm sure he wouldn't have a problem letting you film there. In fact, given that he has a ten-year-old sister he would do anything to protect, he'll probably insist on helping you."

  "Always so confident." She wrapped her arms around Drake after he fished a key out from under a rock and opened the door. "Once upon a time, I would have wondered how you could be so sure. But after spending some time with everyone tonight, I see now that it runs in your family."

  Rosa had expected the cottage to be a storage room, or maybe a simple guest house. But when he flipped on the lights and she saw the paintings, she couldn't hold back a gasp.

  Because Drake's mother stared back at her from every single canvas.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "My father has stored the paintings here for thirty years." This cottage had been the original building on the property and was at least a hundred years old.

  While Alec rarely set foot inside the cottage, Drake was never able to stay away. Not only because he couldn't resist magnificent art, but also because these paintings were his only link to his mother.

  Normally, the paintings were hidden beneath dusty tarps, but tonight Drake was surprised to find them arranged on the walls in chronological order. He couldn't imagine how emotional his father must have been hanging each painting, from the first time his wife had sat for him, through the years when they'd been building a family, until the end of both their marriage and his career.

  Whenever Drake had come here before, he'd uncovered only a couple of paintings at a time. This was the first time he'd ever seen all of them together.

  Love. Loss. Longing. Passion. Shame. Devotion.

  Obsession.

  You couldn't help but feel every moment of joy, each sob of despair. Emotion sang from every brushstroke, every drop of color and contour.

  This was why his father's paintings now sold for millions of dollars--and why people would lose their minds if they knew that more than one hundred William Sullivan originals had been growing damp and dusty in a hundred-year-old cottage in the Adirondacks.

  "My God." Rosa gaped at the paintings. "They're absolutely breathtaking."

  He watched as she followed the painted story of his mother and father's love affair, first with solo paintings of his mother, then with babies, and then with children growing older often appearing alongside her.

  Rosa tugged him over to a canvas in which his mother was looking down at Drake as a newborn. "Look how much she loved you. Whatever happened that sent your mother running, no one could look at this painting and think she didn't want you, that she didn't love you. Because she obviously did, Drake. With everything she was."

  "So many times over the years," he admitted in a quiet voice, "I came and stared at this painting and wished. Wished that she really had loved me." He'd never bared so much of himself to anyone else, not even his siblings. "But every time I thought she must have, I always thought I must be wrong. Because she didn't stay."

  "The things your father told you tonight about what her reasons might have been--did hearing any of it help?"

  "Some. But it hurts too. Hurts to know that I might have had a mom all these years if only they'd been able to figure out a way to help her."

  "I know." She wrapped her arms around him. "If it's too overwhelming to be in here right now, we can go."

  "It always was before, even though I couldn't ever stay away for very long." He held Rosa tightly as he made himself look at the painting--really look deep this time, without being afraid of what he'd see. "She really does float without her feet ever quite touching the ground, doesn't she?"

  "She does."

  "It helps to know that she didn't leave because of me, didn't take her life because she couldn't handle another kid. I just wish my father could see that she didn't leave because of him either. Then maybe he would stop wasting his talent and start painting again."

  "Do you really think he's wasted his talent all these years?"

  Drake turned to Rosa in surprise. "You just said it yourself--how extraordinary his paintings are."

  "They are, no one could ever question that. But he built his own house, didn't he?" When Drake nodded, she said, "It's pretty darn extraordinary. You can tell a true artisan built it. And I'll bet the houses he's built for people all over the lake are just as thoughtful, just as full of artistic touches that have his stamp on them."

  "You're right that he's a brilliant artisan, but it isn't painting. And painting was his whole life."

  "I don't think that's true. I think your mom, you and your siblings, were his life. I know I only just met your family, but I feel like I can so clearly see a piece of each of you in him."

  "How? Where?"

  "Maybe, like with Harry and his love for history, painting was your father's way of really studying the histories of the people he painted from all angles, in all lights and moods. Or he could have used painting the way Suzanne uses a computer program--to create something that would make the world a better place. Or perhaps painting was his ticket into the glamorous life, like Alec's exclusive private planes. Or it could simply be," she said as she turned away from the paintings to meet Drake's gaze, "that he's called to beauty the same wa
y you are, so deeply, so instinctively, that he can't walk away from it without needing to try to capture it for everyone to appreciate, even after the fleeting, radiant moment has passed."

  Drake was floored by her insight. He'd always thought he saw past the normal bounds, but now he realized he'd had blinders on his whole life--at least where his father was concerned. "How do you see so much?"

  "I don't know if you should give me too much credit, since I could be way off base."

  "You're not." Drake felt the truth of it in his bones. "Me, Suz, Harry, Alec--we are all connected to my father. Even if Alec still doesn't want to acknowledge that connection, that doesn't mean it isn't true. I'm not going to lie and say I don't wish my father hadn't stopped painting, but at least now I can see that he probably needed to make that change to survive."

  "I obviously don't know his reasons for putting down his paintbrush," Rosa said as she turned into his arms, "but I can understand how after your mother left, he might have needed to capture beauty, to create art and study the world around him, in a different way. Maybe making a huge change that didn't make sense to anyone else was the only thing that made sense to him. And maybe it was not only a way to survive what he'd been through, but to hopefully come out better on the other side one day."

  "Better." Drake pressed his mouth to hers, loving the sweet sigh of pleasure she made when their lips met. "Everything is already so much better. Because of you."

  "I was planning to rip off your clothes again once we got inside here," she whispered, a sexy confession for his ears only. "But your memories of this room should be about your mother, not getting naked with a woman who can't keep her hands off you."

  "The cottage is bigger than it looks." He took her through a doorway, past a small kitchen, and into the bedroom that he hadn't been in since he was a teenager looking for a private place to bring girls.

  The first thing he noticed was that the old bedframe and mattress were gone. The second thing was how great the lighting was--gallery quality. The third was the lone leather swivel chair in the center of the hardwood floor. And the fourth?