Delaney's Shadow

by Ingrid Weaver

  He slid his hand across her cheek. “I know this house as well as you do. You took me over every square foot when we were kids. I know the quickest way to your room. I remember which boards creak. I also remembered how your grandmother used to leave the window at the back of the kitchen open all summer.” He stroked the curve of her ear. “I locked it after me, just in case Toffelmire was right about your stepdaughter.”

  “Don’t tell me this is your idea of protecting me.”

  “Hell no. Nothing noble like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “You were due for the nightmare. I decided I would wait for it here.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I thought that meeting up with Elizabeth yesterday would trigger it. Seems to me that she often does.”

  “You guessed right.”

  “Uh-huh. I got here in the nick of time, too.” He trailed his knuckles along the side of her neck and down to the slope of her breast. He slipped one finger beneath the satin. “I figured if I was going to get yanked out of a sound sleep to help you, I might as well get something more out of it than a painting.”

  She shuddered. Their thoughts weren’t joined, yet she could feel his touch throughout her body. “You just said you had insomnia.”

  “That’s because I was thinking about the other times you brought me naked to your bed.” He pulled back his hand and unfastened another button on his shirt. “Which reminds me . . .”

  “Max!” she hissed.

  He continued working his way down the shirt. “What’s wrong? You’ve seen everything before.”

  “I know, but this is different.”

  “Damn right.” He pushed the ends of his shirt aside so he could unsnap the stud at the waistband of his jeans. “There’s a big difference between thinking about it and doing it.”

  It was true, she had seen him naked, but that couldn’t compare to the impact of so much virile male, clothed or not, mere inches away. As the rest of the house still slept, her dream lover had come to life. Her sexual fantasy was here in the flesh.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips, torn between a laugh and a groan. “You’re outrageous.”

  “Just doing what comes naturally.” He sat up and pulled her to her knees in front of him. Before she realized what he intended, he grasped the bottom of her nightgown and skimmed it over her head.

  Her laughter froze. She grabbed for the sheet.

  “Come on, Deedee.” He dropped her nightgown on the floor. “I’ve seen you before, too.”

  She held the sheet over her breasts. “I know, but—”

  “You weren’t shy the last time I was here.”

  “I didn’t realize you were real.” She pulled the sheet to her neck and tucked it over the edge of the largest scar.

  “Don’t hide them. You’re beautiful.”

  “I’m not, Max.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he repeated. “Not just the packaging. I’ve seen what’s inside you.”

  “That’s because we were in a fantasy.”

  “For you, yeah, but I’ve always known you were real.” He cupped her right breast through the sheet. His nostrils flared. “All those nights you brought me here, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to touch you and yet not touch? To hold you in my arms, but know you weren’t there?” He leaned over. His breath warmed her skin as his beard stubble rasped against the cotton that covered the largest scar. The sound alone made her breasts tingle.

  She slid her free hand into his hair. “You told me you enjoyed it.”

  “Sure. It was better than nothing, but not as good as this.” He rubbed his thumb across her nipple, then turned his head and drew it, sheet and all, into his mouth.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The walls of the house were indeed thick. Only one of the guest rooms was occupied tonight, and her grandmother’s bedroom was downstairs, but the night was still, and a scream was bound to carry. She didn’t want to risk an interruption. Not now. She arched her back, channeling her passion to her mind. Max!

  He lifted his head. “No tricks this time, Deedee.”

  Damp cotton clung to her breast. Fresh pleasure zinged through the already sensitized skin as it cooled. “Mmm?”

  “No head games, no pretending, just you and me on a four-poster bed.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out a handful of condom packets, and leaned over to set them on the bedside table.

  Her gaze went to the condoms. More than anything he’d said, they brought home the fact that this was no dream. Max was a real man, and he wanted intercourse, not an imaginary orgasm. She pictured him entering her, physically joining her, going deep, hard . . .

  Her body responded with painful swiftness. She swallowed a moan. “I still can’t believe this.”

  He peeled off his shirt and tossed it behind him. Though dark bruises marred his skin, his movements were fluid. The swelling around his shoulder was gone. He didn’t appear to feel any discomfort. “Don’t let the speed of those make-believe orgasms fool you. I plan to take my time.”

  She skimmed her fingers across his chest. She was already familiar with the swirls of dark hair and the contours of his muscles. Or so she’d thought. Yet the mind-picture she held of him was a mere shadow. This man was solid. Her touch connected outside and in. He was actually in her bed this time. Here. With her. Close enough for her to feel the heat from his body and smell the musk from his skin. “I meant I can’t believe you really came to my room.”

  “I’ve thought about that a lot, too. It’s been hell, knowing where you lived. I’ve seen your light through the trees and imagined coming to you here.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  He slid his hand beneath the sheet to her leg. “It would have been complicated.”

  “And this isn’t? We haven’t settled anything. We need to talk. You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect to make love with me.”

  “We’re going to have sex, that’s all. Genuine sex. Skin to skin. My body inside yours.”

  “Max . . .”

  He traced the crease at the top of her thigh. “I’ll make it good for you.”

  Oh, she had no doubts about that. His thoughts alone had made it good. Making love with the entire man would be . . . “Love. It would be love, Max.”

  He covered her mons with his palm as he fitted his lips to hers.

  The kiss took away her breath and then gave it back, just as it had in her dream. He already knew the perfect angle and the right amount of pressure, the subtle shift and the gentle suction that worked best. When she opened her mouth, he slid his tongue inside gently. That was all, just his tongue. He didn’t use his mind, even though hers was wide-open.

  She twined her thoughts around his.

  He wedged two fingers between her legs.

  Her body tumbled to the brink of a climax. And remained trembling. There was no mental push to send her over. Max, please!

  He withdrew his hand. His zipper rasped.

  She put her hand over his. To stop him? To help him? Let me love you, Max.

  He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her fingers, and returned it to his lap. He pushed down his briefs. His erection butted against her palm. “I’ve told you what I’m offering, Delaney. If it’s not enough for you, you’d better send me away now.”

  The light had strengthened. It tinted his face with orange gold. Desire was plain to see in his clenched jaw and the muscle that jumped in his cheek. Tension sparked from his body. Her fingers curled around him reflexively. He was a large, very aroused man, and yet . . .

  And yet there was a tremor at the corners of his mouth that reminded her of a boy. Defiance in the lift of his chin. His gaze was naked with a yearning that reached past her mind and her body and went straight to her heart.

  He didn’t want her love, but he needed it. He might never admit that he did, because that would leave him as vulnerable as he’d been as a child. Yet she loved the man as much as she h
ad loved the boy. She couldn’t send him away now, no matter what he said or did. If this was the only connection he would accept, then she would make the most of it.

  She dropped her sheet and helped him take off the rest of his clothes.

  There was no room for more thought, only feeling. He drew her to her feet and pressed her back to one of the bedposts. With their fingers laced together, he raised her arms over her head to clasp their hands against the wood.

  At first she tugged against his grip. She wanted to explore him with her fingers as she’d already learned him with her mind. She lifted her chin to seek his kiss.

  He pulled back his head and rubbed his body against hers. It was a kiss that used everything except their lips, and it was more erotic than she could have dreamed. Slowly, thoroughly, he caressed her with his chest and his thighs, with the sides of his knees and the firm ridges of his hips. Crisp hair teased her breasts. The length of his erection dragged across her stomach, slick, silky, pulsing with life.

  Delight sparked from every point where they touched. There was no need for a fantasy to augment the pleasure. Her senses heightened until merely drawing breath made her quiver. She lifted on her toes and hooked one leg around him, opening herself to his caress. Just when she was sure she couldn’t take any more, he let go of her hands and used his mouth as well as his body.

  Release exploded through every stretched-taut nerve. Colors she couldn’t name flashed across her vision. The instant the peak began to ebb, he was already pushing her toward another.

  They fell across the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, of heated skin and mingled sweat. Real sex, like real life, was messy. There were packages to open, hairs that tugged when they got caught, and weight on her chest that crushed her lungs. The need for silence made her bite her lip to swallow her moans. By the time the sun rose, she was sodden, aching, and so physically satiated her bones had turned to mush.

  Max held her in his arms as she drifted back to sleep. When she awoke again, she was alone.

  She spread her fingers over the dip his head had left on the pillow. His warmth was gone, yet the aroma of what they’d done still hung in the air. It had been incredible, beyond anything in her experience or her imagination.

  But it was no use pretending that what he’d given her had been enough.

  TWENTY-SIX

  DELANEY WAITED AT THE TOP OF THE FRONT STEPS AS LEO hoisted himself out of the taxi. A bumblebee droned from the petunias in one of the planter boxes. Helen stood on the driveway with her departing guests, giving directions to the lake to a plump woman in Bermuda shorts while the woman’s husband loaded a suitcase into their car. Edgar’s red truck was parked beside the hedge near the gatepost. He was applying mortar to replace a missing stone. From the backyard came the noise of the riding lawn mower where Pete was cutting the grass.

  And on the other side of the fence, past the woods and the pond and the old train track embankment, Max was upstairs in his studio, squeezing colors onto his glass palette. Delaney caught the whiff of oil paints as he mixed a bright swirl of yellow and white. The corner of his mouth lifted in a one-sided smile, as if he were aware of her presence.

  “You told me it was urgent,” Leo said as he climbed the steps to the veranda.

  At the sound of her lawyer’s voice, Delaney pulled her thoughts back from Max. She’d only looked, not touched, yet even that fleeting contact had energized her. She was disturbed by how powerless she was to resist her attraction to him. She was only now realizing the extent of how bad her marriage had been. It would be foolhardy to dive into another relationship so soon, especially when the rest of her life was in such a state of flux.

  But calling what she shared with Max a “relationship” was like calling . . . She couldn’t think of a comparison. Their bond could very well be unique in the world.

  She knew how Max would label it, though. At least he’d restrained himself from repeating aloud the crude term for what they’d done on her bed.

  “It’s not too late to have Elizabeth arrested,” Leo continued. “From what you related to me, she knowingly broke the restraining order.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind.” She led Leo into the house, past the staircase to the book-lined room at the back that had once been her mother’s bedroom. It served as a sitting room and Helen’s office now, and would ensure them privacy. Once they were settled in a pair of wing chairs, she filled in the details of her conversation with Elizabeth the previous day, then outlined what she wanted him to do.

  He pursed his lips, his cheeks twitching as he digested what she’d said. He shook his head violently. “This is a mistake, Delaney. I implore you, take more time to think it over.”

  “I have thought it over, Leo. It’s what I want.”

  “I’ve told you that Elizabeth has no case. There is no evidence of any wrongdoing or negligence.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t matter? You deserve that money. You earned it.”

  “I earned it? What does that mean?”

  “I meant no offense. You were a good wife to Stanford, better than he deserved. You’ve been loyal to a fault. You don’t owe him anything, and you most certainly don’t owe his daughter.”

  “You mentioned that before.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That I don’t owe him anything. Leo, did you know about his affairs?”

  He took off his glasses and polished them with the end of his tie. “Let’s not talk about that.”

  “No, I think we need to. You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you were so adamant that I not compromise with respect to his estate.”

  “Delaney . . .”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re my lawyer. You’re also supposed to be my friend.”

  “It’s because I’m your friend that I remained silent. I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

  “You must have known the truth would come out.”

  “Your own mind suppressed the memories. There was a reason for that. I warned you to let them be.”

  “Yes, you did warn me. You’ve discouraged me from remembering anything. Is that why?”

  “I believed it was for the best.”

  “You had no right to decide—” She stopped. “Leo, how did you know that I’d learned Stanford had been unfaithful?”

  “I assumed you had realized it because even I had heard the rumors. When you spoke about Stanford in such glowing terms after the accident, I believed you were happier not remembering.” He resettled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “This has no bearing on the matter at hand. Elizabeth is unbalanced. Trying to appease her is a serious error. She belongs in jail.”

  “She claims she didn’t send the photographs or try to hurt me.”

  “Naturally, she’d deny it. You’re far too trusting, Delaney.”

  “She also claims that you’ve been undermining her position at Grayecorp. Is that true?”

  “Everything I’ve done is in your defense.”

  “Is it true?” she repeated.

  “Some people may interpret it that way; however, it will give us leverage to fight her lawsuit.”

  Leverage, like Elizabeth had used against Stanford. He would probably have been proud of how single-minded his daughter had become. She was as calculating as he’d been. How empty it must feel to go through life not trusting anyone.

  Like Max?

  Her gaze strayed to the bay window and to the woods beyond the back fence. Max scorned the very concept of love, just like Elizabeth. On the surface, they had been raised in completely different environments, yet a parent’s income bracket was no guarantee of a good home. Elizabeth had learned to be as wary of emotions as Max. They’d both had loveless childhoods, too, although Max did have a best friend who had loved him . . .

  How simplistic that was. The love of one self-centered, blindly innocent child couldn’t have counteracted the horrendous situation in which Max had been raised. Declarations of
love and a few rounds of sex wouldn’t negate the betrayal that had sent him to prison. It was a testament to the strength of his character that he’d been able to show her any tenderness at all.

  She returned her attention to Leo. “This fighting is getting out of hand. It has to stop before it escalates further. We have to break the pattern.”

  “We can’t back down when we’re gaining the advantage.”

  “I’ve made my decision. I’m giving Elizabeth the Bedford house as well as half her father’s estate. I’d like you to get the necessary documents started.”

  “Delaney, please! Consider the value of what you’re giving up.”

  “If it’s the price of peace, I’ll gladly pay it.”

  “At least make the deal contingent on her dropping her lawsuit.”

  “Yes, of course. The whole idea is to end this antagonism. She’s taken a suite downtown at the Riverview Hotel. Her lawyer should be arriving in town this afternoon, and I’ve invited them both to meet with me here. I’d like you to be present as well, Leo.”

  “What time?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “Fine. Perhaps by then you will come to your senses.”

  “I assure you, I already have.”

  “I don’t understand how you can overlook the crimes Elizabeth has committed.”

  “There’s no more proof that she’s guilty of trying to hurt me than there is proof that I’m guilty of causing Stanford’s death.”

  “Your naïveté has always been charming, but in this case it could prove dangerous.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Leo. I have a right to my opinion, and I don’t appreciate having it belittled. If I had followed my instincts when Elizabeth initiated the lawsuit instead of listening to you, all of this strife might have been prevented.”

  “I was only thinking of your best interests.”

  “I’m not blaming you; I blame myself for giving in. I’ve done that far too often during my life. That has to change.”

  He took a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his face, then sighed deeply enough to make his chair creak. “Are you truly prepared to relinquish the Graye house?”