“Ooops. There’s your dime.”
“That wasn’t any three minutes,” he yelled to an operator who wasn’t listening.
“You’d better go, Michael. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Danica hung up the phone feeling warmed as she hadn’t since she had returned from Maine ten days before. She basked in the feeling for the rest of the afternoon, then dressed with special care. With just a momentary touch of guilt, she told Mrs. Hannah that she would be having dinner with a friend and that she wouldn’t be back until late, but she was firm when the housekeeper suggested that Marcus could drive her wherever it was she was going.
“Thank Marcus for me, but I feel like driving myself,” she said, taking the keys to the Audi and heading out to the courtyard. She hadn’t lied. She felt strong, full of energy, very much on top of the world.
Her headiness didn’t diminish even when it took her ten minutes and three trips around the block to find a parking space. She was running when she reached the restaurant, but it was a wise expenditure of energy in light of the self-control she had to then exercise to keep from flying into Michael’s arms and telling the whole world she was in love.
With Michael in much the same state, they babbled steadily through dinner, not seeing what they ate and caring less. They skipped dessert. He couldn’t get the check fast enough. Then they were out of the restaurant and he was walking her to her car, leaning low to kiss her in the opportune darkness of the quiet side street. Drawing back at last, he reached into his pocket and pressed his hotel key into her hand. “I’ll follow you until we get there. Then you go on up. I’ll join you in a minute.”
She nodded, which was all she could do because she was shaking all over and not from fear of discovery. Being so near Michael yet unable to touch him, to say those things her heart needed to say, had been sheer torture. Only with the greatest of control did she manage to start her car, then wait until Michael had pulled up beside her. The ten-minute drive seemed endless. Her excitement grew such that her body was high-pitched and taut by the time she finally pulled into the parking lot. Michael pulled in beside her, then sat.
Taking a deep breath to steady her movements, she slid from the car and entered the lobby of the hotel, took the elevator to the eighth floor, found the room and let herself in. Once there, she leaned back against the door and waited, heart thudding, body trembling, juices flowing in anticipation of Michael, his body, his love.
His knock came so softly that she mightn’t have heard it, given the hammering of her pulse, had she not been braced against the door. She peered out. He slid in. Then they were in each other’s arms, hugging, kissing, laughing and sighing until even that wasn’t enough.
“You look beautiful,” Michael rasped, sliding her thin wool sheath up over her hips. “I love your dress.” The item was over her head and discarded in a heap that would have made lie of his praise had Danica not understood, and shared, his impatience. She was tugging at his tie.
“You look gorgeous all dressed up,” she said in hurried breaths. She left his tie draped loosely around his neck while she attacked the buttons of his shirt. “I’ve never seen you this way. You’ll drive female students wild.”
“I won’t even see them,” he managed, sending her slip the way of her dress. He fumbled with his belt, jerked down his zipper and shucked his pants while she threw her stockings aside.
Within minutes they were naked and falling on the bed, each touching the other with a greed born of a deprivation that seemed to have stretched for longer than ten days.
“I love you. Oh, baby, I love you,” he panted, making a place for himself between her legs and thrusting upward.
Danica cried out and held him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist, rising from the bed to meet his deep thrusts. It was only minutes before they climaxed, then an eternity of bliss and a slower, more reluctant return to earth.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathed against his damp chest. “It’s seemed like forever.”
He held her snugly against him, an arm around her shoulders, a thigh over hers anchoring her to his hip. As physically sated as they were at that moment, neither would allow sleep to steal even a second of the time they had together. When they recovered enough to talk, they did. When talking gave way to revived physical needs, they made love again. Then there was more to say, more to share. All too soon, and with great reluctance, Danica pushed herself from the bed and reached for her clothes.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he said.
She stepped into her panties, and sat to pull on her stockings. “So do I. But I have to get home or Mrs. Hannah will wonder.” Even as she spoke, she hated the words. She didn’t want to have to hide when what she was hiding was so wonderful. She knew that Michael felt the same because his jaw was tight, his expression grim.
She fastened her bra and pulled on her slip. Unable to resist, she looked back at Michael’s sprawled form. “You have a beautiful body,” she murmured, running her hand through the hair on his chest. It was warm and looked more golden than tawny in the dim light that flowed from the nightstand. She felt she was touching a treasure. But the treasure didn’t end at his chest. It descended over the lean plane of his stomach, over narrow hips and the limp but nonetheless impressive parts that made him man, over the sinewed strength of legs that stretched forever. She met his gaze and smiled. “A bronzed god with a heart of gold. I love you, Michael.”
Grasping her elbows, he hauled her over him and kissed her in eloquent return of the vow. By the time he was done, he was no longer limp, and she had to force herself from the bed to keep from responding to his desire.
“You’ll be here for another day?” she asked.
He pushed himself up against the headboard and dragged a sheet over himself in the hope that what was out of sight would be out of mind. “I finish up tomorrow afternoon. I could drive back tomorrow night—” when she gasped, he grinned “—but I won’t. I’ll stay over if you can think of good reason why I should.”
Throwing caution to the winds, she returned to the bed. As she kissed him, she stroked him through the sheet, stopping only when he arched upward in greater need.
“Good reason,” he rasped. “That’s it. Of course, I’ll be in agony until then. Dani, you’re not playing fair.”
Because she loved him so much and because what she’d started had affected her nearly as much as it had him, she kissed him again, this time sliding her hand under the sheet.
“Take off your panties,” he whispered into her mouth. “Just your panties. I’ll be quick.”
“No. Let me.”
“Dani…” But he moaned and said nothing more, because she knew what she was doing and he couldn’t think with the pleasure she gave him. When she eased the sheet back and leaned lower, he tried again. “Dani…no…ahhhh, my God…Dani…”
She was using her tongue and lips as he had done to her, and the love she felt for him bridged whatever gaps remained in her education. Eyes closed tightly, head pressed to the side, he strained upward. The tendons of his arms stood out vividly. His outspread fingers dug into the sheet. He gasped her name once more, caught his breath, then felt his body explode.
She was kissing him sweetly on the mouth when he finally regained awareness. “That was wonderful,” she said with a feline smile, and, though still dazed, he sensed the full extent of her love.
“That was wonderful,” he echoed, but weakly, because every inch of his body felt drained. He took a long, shuddering breath. “And you’ve won because there’s no way I can touch you any more tonight. I don’t think I’m going to move till morning.”
“No need,” she said softly. “When do you have to get up?”
“Seven,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
Without another word, she picked up the phone and requested a wake-up call, then quietly finished dressing and kissed him
softly. He was already asleep. For a final moment she gazed at him from the door, then, smiling, carefully shut it and headed home.
The next night was every bit as heavenly. They ate at a different restaurant this time but returned to his hotel in much the same manner and spent the next hours in bliss. Unfortunately, the bliss faded when Danica dressed to leave.
“I don’t like this, Dani. I don’t like having to sneak around with you as though what we’re doing is wrong. I don’t like having to starve for a week between feedings.”
She laughed and gently stroked his cheek. “You’ve been with Rusty too much. He always did make a fuss about mealtimes.”
“I’m not talking about food,” he growled.
“I know.” She grew more serious. “I know. But I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll divorce Blake. This is getting ridiculous.”
“I need more time, Michael. I’m trying. I’ve put the bug in his ear and all I can do is twist it around until he gets the message.”
“What if he never does? Maybe the guy needs a good swift kick in the ass.”
“We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
“If you’re waiting for him to suggest the divorce, maybe you’re going about it the wrong way. Maybe you should tell him about us. Maybe you should tell Mrs. Hannah you’ll be out all night.”
“I can’t do that. Please? I need you to be supportive. I’m doing what I can in the only way I know how.”
Seeing, hearing her agony, Michael pulled her head to his chest. “Okay, sweetheart. And I’m sorry if I push you, but there are times when I get so impatient.”
“I get that way, too, and it’s so much worse because I feel an awful responsibility on my shoulders.”
He stroked her hair. “I wish I could take some of it for you. Maybe I should go to Washington. Maybe I should have a talk with Blake.”
She brought her head up fast. “No! Don’t do that. You’ll only end up taking the blame for something that isn’t your doing at all.”
“Isn’t my doing? Hell, I’m screwing the man’s wife—” At Danica’s stricken expression, he quickly amended the thought. “I’m in love with his wife, with every last intimate inch of her.” He lowered his voice. “Better?”
She nodded. “There’s nothing sordid about what we do.”
“I know, and I apologize for using that word. It’s just that I get frustrated and angry. I wish something would happen.”
“It will. In time. It will.”
It happened sooner than either of them thought. That night, when Danica returned to Beacon Hill, Mrs. Hannah was up waiting with the urgent message that Danica’s mother had had a stroke.
The Hartford Hospital was no different from any other, with its long halls, its antiseptic smell and the ever-present sounds of bleeps, rustling uniforms and muted conversation. Danica came to know it all well over the next two weeks as she sat at her mother’s bedside.
Eleanor had been fortunate. Only her right side had been paralyzed, and even then she was slowly beginning to regain a measure of movement. Danica helped her eat, pushed her wheelchair around the halls, waited patiently while she was in physical therapy, and, more than anything, filled the void left by William Marshall’s absence.
Oh, he had come immediately after Eleanor had been admitted. He had shown up on each successive weekend. But he always had to return to Washington, where pressing business waited. Danica was reminded of when her mother had had her hysterectomy, when William had been about as doting. She was reminded of when she’d had her own miscarriage, when Blake had popped up for twenty-four hours, then had left. And she was reminded of Michael, who had been there, who had cared for her, who had told her without words that she was far more important than any work he might be doing.
Indeed, Michael had driven to Hartford several days before to see Eleanor. Though Danica hadn’t had much time with him alone, she had been deeply touched by his thoughtfulness. As for Blake, his lavish floral bouquet sat wilting now on the windowsill; he hadn’t made it north at all.
Ironically, the freest times for Danica were during visiting hours, when a steady stream of the Marshalls’ friends filtered in and out of the room. Danica would excuse herself, promising her mother she would be back soon, and would wander around the hospital or the nearby downtown area wondering why she was being so attentive. In the end, she only knew that she couldn’t be any other way. What had happened in the past didn’t seem as important as that what she was doing now gave her satisfaction. Eleanor, for all her faults, was her mother, and it was obvious from the frightened glances she sent toward Danica when Danica was leaving, from the way she held Danica’s hand with her own strong left one, from the way she seemed more relaxed when Danica was around, that Eleanor needed her.
More than once Danica wondered whether Eleanor’s recent attentiveness hadn’t been a forewarning that something wasn’t right. The doctors had said she’d had high blood pressure for years, though Danica had never known it. Her father, on the other hand, had his own thoughts on Eleanor’s stroke.
“She’s been worried about you lately, Danica.”
They were sitting in the coffee shop on the third Sunday. Eleanor was to be released from the hospital the following week.
“There’s nothing for her to worry about,” Danica commented as casually as she could, given the sudden premonition she felt.
“She doesn’t think so. She came back from Maine last summer quite concerned about you and Blake.”
“About me and Blake? I’m not sure I follow.” She certainly did, but she wanted to know exactly what her father had to say.
“You’re never together anymore. You live in different cities and you leave him to go about his business on his own. That’s no way to run a marriage.”
“It doesn’t seem to be much different from the way you and Mom ran yours.”
William grew stern. “It certainly is different. Your mother has always been with me, whether in Washington or Hartford. It’s only lately that she’s here more, and that’s because she’s tired.”
“Then I guess Mom’s a better person than I am. She’s undemanding and self-sacrificing.”
“She’s been a good wife. I’d have expected you to follow her example.”
“Times have changed. Commuting is simpler now.”
“That’s hogwash. Commuting was always simple if you wanted to do it. You, obviously, don’t want to do it. What’s the matter with you?”
Danica forced herself to speak in an even tone. “I have interests that Mom never had.”
William Marshall had never been one to beat around the bush when he had something on his mind. “You have this Buchanan fellow. What in the hell are you doing with him? That’s what has your mother so upset. She’s worried sick that something’s going on that you’re going to regret one day.”
“Just a minute, Dad,” Danica warned. “If you’re trying to blame Mom’s stroke on me, that’s unfair. According to the doctor, she’s had high blood pressure for years, and that could as easily be from trying to keep up with the life you want to lead as from worrying about me. Let’s not throw accusations around because we’ll never know what caused the stroke.”
“You haven’t answered my question, young lady. I asked what was going on between you and that fellow in Maine.”
Danica stared at her father for a full minute. “He’s a good friend, probably the best I’ve ever had. You should be grateful he gives me his time. God only knows, no one else does.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She sighed. “Ach, this isn’t the time or place.”
In deference to her reminder, he lowered his voice, but that was the extent of his surrender. “No, girl, spit it out.”
“It’s not important. What is is that we try to get Mother out of here and back on her feet.”
“That will happen anyway. She has the best of doctors and therapists, and I’ve already hired a full-time nurse to
take care of her when she gets home.”
“I’ll stay on for a while. She needs someone who loves her.”
If Danica was trying to get a message across, she failed. William was still thinking about the stack of photographs Morgan Emery had handed him. “You’re avoiding me, Danica. I asked you what you were doing with Michael Buchanan.”
“And I answered.” It was all she could do not to wilt beneath William’s cutting stare, but she managed. She loved him because he was her father, and she had always tried to please him, but short of outright lying, she would be damned now by whatever answer she gave.
“Then listen to me, and listen good. I want you to stay away from him. He and his family are trouble from the word go. He’d like nothing more than to embarrass us, and if you do something to compromise Blake, you’ll be doing just that. Honestly, Danica, I never thought I’d have to have a discussion like this with you.” When her mouth remained set, he went on. “Stay away from Buchanan. Your running all over Maine with him is indecent. Blake Lindsay is a good man, and he’s your husband. For your mother’s sake, if nothing else, behave yourself.”
Danica felt like a chastised child. Her resentment nearly overpowered her recollection of where she was and why. She would have liked nothing more than to tell her father to mind his own business, to tell him to clean his own house before he worried about cleaning hers, but she said nothing. One part of her feared the repercussions of such an outburst, and for her mother’s sake, if nothing else, she controlled herself.
Gathering her purse, she stood. “I think I’ll go back up and see how Mom is doing.”
William stood and took her elbow. “Do we have an understanding, Danica?”
“You’ve said what you wanted to say. Trust me to do what I feel is right.”
“That’s a nonanswer if I ever heard one,” her father grumbled. “Maybe I steered you wrong after all. You should have been a politician.”
“God forbid,” Danica replied with a deliberate touch of humor.
Unfortunately, William wasn’t deceived, or rather, he didn’t particularly trust his daughter. He felt that he barely knew her, that any number of things could be going on in her life that he didn’t know about. For the most part, he didn’t care what she did. He certainly wasn’t interested in getting a rundown on her charity work or even the work she was doing with James Bryant. The matter of Michael Buchanan, though, was something else. He was damned if he would have a scandal rock his family.
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