by Day Leclaire
This time she stopped his words with her mouth. "Don't say any more, Julian," she breathed against his lips. "Don't spoil what we have. Not yet. Tomorrow it might all fall down around our ears, but for now let's enjoy our time together."
The first time she'd known his possession, his lovemaking had been sweet and gentle. Tender. Careful, while they'd learned each other's likes and dislikes.
Over the past four nights, that had changed. Their comfort and knowledge had grown deeper. Matured. He knew where to touch her. How to touch her. And she'd learned what pleased him the most, too.
Silently, they shed their clothes, all the while touching, stroking, whispering words of loving intimacy, employing all they'd learned to turn the moment magical. With each passing moment, her breath quickened, as did her body, burning with a need so inescapable she thought she'd shatter from the intense pleasure. She reached for him, pulled him to her, opened to him.
And he took her with a single stroke, thrusting into liquid heat and filling her. They moved together, reveling in this dance they'd learned so well, reveling in a song unique to the two of them.
How she loved these moments that cocooned them in their own private world. How she wished it would last forever, that they could forget all the trauma swirling around them and just lose themselves in an endless embrace. An endless rejoicing of the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual. But it couldn't last.
She gave herself up to the wildness, becoming one with it, allowing herself to shatter. To fragment. To go where he, and only he, sent her, into that explosive rebirth. She was his, just as he was hers. They could never go back to where they'd been at the start. Not any longer. It was far too late for that.
Afterward, Callie lowered her head to Julian's chest, hearing the strong, rapid beat of his heart, feeling the matching echo of her own. She felt safe and protected within the tight circle of his arms, more at home there than anywhere else, even Willow's End. If only it could be forever. She squeezed her eyes closed.
If only...
* * *
On the morning of the fourth day of the bet, Callie decided she needed to get organized. "The first thing we do," she informed Brutus, "is come up with some great new excuses for why I can't help people. I can't seem to just say no." She took a sip of her coffee and returned the mug to the kitchen table. "Frankly I'm not altogether certain the word no is even in my vocabulary."
Brutus gave a little snort, which she took as a signal of agreement. "Oh, well. We'll manage somehow. Julian can't hold out much longer. We can outlast him, no problem."
Her staunch, loyal supporter, and friend whimpered.
Despite his lack of faith, she found the fourth day surprisingly easy, for the simple reason that no one phoned her and no one came by. The fifth day proved to be more difficult, again for a simple reason. Her cell phone rang.
Callie pulled it out of her pocket only to discover Brutus practically sitting on her feet.
"I know, I know. I won't blow it." Brutus rolled his eyes and she scowled at him. "Don't look at me like that. I know what I'm doing." She pushed the connect button with one hand and held her nose with the other. "We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service—"
"Callie?"
"If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again." She disconnected to Valerie's confused sputtering and smiled smugly at Brutus. "See? A few more days of that and we're home free."
"Not a chance."
Callie turned and her smug smile slipped a notch. "Oh. Hiya, Julian." She set the phone carefully on the kitchen table. "Been here long?"
He folded his arms across his chest. "Long enough to know you're not playing fair."
Her chin shot out an inch. "I don't remember anything being said about playing fair. I remember lots being said about favors, and saying no, and various what-ifs and therefores. But—" Her cell phone rang again and they both turned to stare at it.
"Aren't you going to answer?" Julian asked on the third ring.
She shook her head. "I was sort of thinking I wouldn't."
Julian heaved a deep sigh. "I'm disappointed in you, Callie. You are not getting into the spirit of our wager."
"Tough."
"Answer it!"
Callie snatched up the receiver. "What do you want?" she barked into the phone.
"Callie? Is that you? What on earth is going on?"
"I can't do it."
There was a long pause, and then Valerie said in a confused voice, "Can't do what?"
"Whatever it is you called me about. I can't do it. Call me next week. Goodbye." She hit the disconnect button, slammed the phone down, and faced Julian, her hands on her hips. "There. Are you satisfied now?"
He shook his head and chuckled. "Not exactly. Though it's a conversation that will live long in my memory. Next time try letting them ask you the favor before turning them down."
"You do it your way and I'll do it mine."
"And you'll be lynched before the week's out."
The phone rang yet again, this time the landline, and Callie groaned. She couldn't go through it again. It wasn't in her nature to be rude and surly. If she answered the phone, she'd start apologizing all over the place, and end up promising to do every favor in the book from now until next Christmas.
She'd be firm. She'd be firm and keep saying no. She snatched up the message pad beside the handset and wrote NO in big letters. She glared at Julian. "And stop laughing. This isn't funny." She snatched up the receiver.
"Hello?" she inquired sweetly.
"Hello, Callie. Brad Anderson here. Could you get Julian for me? For some reason, he's not answering his cell. It's urgent."
She fluttered her eyelashes at Julian. The fink. "Gee, I'm sorry, Brad. If I called Julian to the phone that would be doing you a favor. It would be doing him a favor. That's two favors. And I'm not allowed to do any favors." Before Julian could get to her, she banged the phone down and took off at a run.
* * *
The sixth day was nearly her undoing. Word, she decided, had gotten around. Probably thanks to Julian. She wouldn't put it past him to broadcast the details of their bet to the entire town of Willow, just so he could sit back and watch the fun. She was oh, so tempted to take all the receivers off their hooks and the battery out of her cell phone. But she refused to do it. She would win their wager, and she'd win it fair and square—which meant not telling anyone why she needed to refuse all requests.
Or so she thought until Valerie called.
"Am I still your friend, or aren't I?" she opened the conversation on a plaintive note.
Callie cleared her throat. "That depends. What do you want?"
"That's what I'm talking about. What is all this about what I want? Can't I just call you up for a simple chat?"
"Oh, you want to talk. Great." Callie got comfortable in her chair. "I can do that. So, talk."
"I mean what's wrong with asking a friend for a little favor? Explain it to me. Have I been unreasonable? Have I presumed too much on our friendship? What's the deal?"
"Favor?" Callie sat up straight, alarm coursing through her. "Oh, please, don't use that word. It's really an unpleasant word and I know you don't want to say it quite that way. How about, you were wondering if I would like to...? Or did I remember how I'd been meaning to...? Something that doesn't use the f-word."
"I'd like to borrow your beach and water toys. The ones you always drag out for the little kids to play with at the lake. We're leaving at two o'clock sharp to visit my mother and I'd hoped you could bring them by. Now is that too much to ask?"
Callie struggled for that n-word she'd been trying to use all week. "Now?" was all she could come up with.
"Not now. Two o'clock."
She fought off the nearly overwhelming impulse to agree. After all, Willow's End meant more than a pile of toys. "I can't," she said instead, and smiled. It might not be a no, but it came darn
ed close.
"Callie, I'm desperate. If it's a problem to drop them off, I can always swing by and pick them up. Will that do?" Valerie didn't wait for an answer. She ended the call with a cheery, "Thanks. You're the best." And the line went dead.
* * *
Callie opened the closet door beneath the main staircase, arguing with Brutus while she searched. "Listen. This isn't really a favor. I pull this stuff out every summer. No big thing."
Brutus whined unhappily.
She ignored him and shoved the winter clothes to one side. Crouching between the various boxes, boots, gloves, and hats, she dug deeper into the closet.
"I'm not doing this because Valerie wants me to, but because I happened to be thinking about beach toys and realized we hadn't pulled ours out yet. That's not doing a favor. Not at all. And it certainly has nothing to do with the bet."
Brutus barked in protest.
She swiveled around and glared at him. "Okay. It's a sort-of favor. But if you don't tell him and I don't tell him, Julian will never know. And what Julian doesn't know won't hurt him." She turned back to the job at hand. Bending low, she spied a beat up cardboard box. "Aha. Gotcha!"
Before she could grab hold of it, something whacked against her backside, sending her headlong into the depths of the closet.
Callie struggled to sit up, fighting off a winter coat that had somehow taken up residence on top of her head. Even without the coat, the pitch black made it impossible to see anything. She shoved a basketball to one side and crawled over the boxes and bags to the door.
"Hey! What's going on? Who turned out the lights?" Her head hit the wall and she plopped onto her backside, rubbing her forehead. "When I get out of here, you dog, are one dead duck."
She felt along the wall until her hand hit the outline of the door. She searched for the knob and with a sigh of relief found it. She turned the knob and pushed. And pushed. What the hell?
"Brutus couldn't have locked it. He's good, but he's not that good." She stood up and pounded on the heavy oak door. "You're good, but you're not that good! You can't keep me in here forever." She frowned. "Can you?"
There was no light switch in the closet. Fumbling in the dark, she thrust a boot, a ball of yarn, and a globe out of her way and knelt down, her face against the floor. Everything was black, totally black. Experimentally she shoved her fingers into the tiny crack under the door. She hit fur.
"Why you..." She grabbed the doorknob and shook it as hard as she could. Moving two hundred pounds of stubborn dog was not going to be an easy task. "Get away from this door, you puffed up poodle!"
Callie stuck her ear to the wooden surface and heard a loud rumbling snore. With a groan of disbelief, she sank onto a pile of winter coats she'd knocked from their hangers. "How can he possibly go to sleep?"
She leaned against the wall, cradling the box of beach toys in her arms. Okay, look at the bright side. At least while she stayed locked in the closet, she wouldn't be tempted to do anyone a favor. She yawned and shut her eyes. Stupid dog. No one falls asleep that fast. She wouldn't put it past him to be faking that snore.
Sometime later the door opened and bright sunshine streamed in. Callie blinked and looked up at Julian. "Oh, hello," she greeted him. He stood silently for a long time, his gaze moving from her to the box of beach toys and back again.
"I don't think I'll ask," Julian said. "I think I'll just close the door and leave."
"Brutus locked me in here," she explained with a sleepy smile, holding up her hands to him. "Wasn't that mean of him?"
He reached down and tugged her to her feet. She stumbled into his arms, scattering beach toys in her wake. "It was downright cruel, if you ask me," he said, and kissed her.
The kiss jolted her wide awake. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back, hearing Julian groan deep in his throat.
"I want you," he informed her in a husky voice. "I want you every second of every day. Or I would if any of the clocks worked."
Reluctantly she pulled away, lifting a hand to trace the whisker-roughened skin along his jaw. "I want you, too. So what do we do about it?"
"Slip back into the closet and close the door?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Tempting, but not enough room to be workable." Suddenly she remembered Valerie. "What time is it? Is it past two?" She broke off. "Oh, that's right, you don't wear a watch anymore. How could I forget?"
His arms tightened around her. "I don't know," he replied. His eyes gleamed with amusement. "How?"
"I guess I'm still half asleep." She bent and picked up the plastic bucket and shovel resting at their feet. "I was going to put these toys out when Brutus locked—" She stopped, realizing what she'd revealed. "That is, I... You see..."
Julian's lips twitched. "I see better than you might think, sweetheart. You don't suppose Brutus locked you in the closet to keep you from doing something foolish, do you?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Callie tossed the rest of the toys into the closet and shoved the door closed. "Really, Julian. Brutus is just a dog. The way you talk about him, you'd think he was human or something."
He choked on a laugh. "I notice you don't say that when the mutt is anywhere within hearing." He lifted her chin and she was forced to look at him. "I knew this bet wouldn't be easy for you. And I know how hard you're trying. You can do it, Callie. I have faith in you."
Her mouth turned down at the corners. "I'm not so sure."
"Think of it as a skill you need to learn. The art of saying no."
"But why?" she demanded in frustration. "Why do I have to say no all the time? I'd much rather say yes. I say yes to you all the time."
"You're allowed to say yes—particularly to making love—because it doesn't mean losing the bet. That's not a favor."
"Says you. Maybe we should redefine the word. Maybe there are other things I could be doing that wouldn't be considered a favor."
"I'll tell you what." His lips brushed hers. "Anytime you're desperate to say yes, come find me."
"No," she retorted perversely. "Darn it, Julian. This isn't fair. You're expecting me to act in a way that runs contrary to my basic nature."
"Not at all," he insisted. "I expect you to stand up for yourself when it's necessary. It's not that I expect you to refuse all favors. I just want you to learn to be a little judicious about which favors you agree to do."
"Well, since I'm not allowed to do any favors, judicious or otherwise, I think I'll go call Valerie," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "For a chat. Just for a chat. Certainly not about any beach toys, or any stupid bets."
But after calling and offering a lame excuse to an understanding Valerie, carefully omitting any mention of the bet, Callie thought about what he'd said. She thought about it all through the rest of the day while Julian and the kids continued with the repairs on the house. She watched them work together, watched their growing rapport and their mutual respect. She watched the firm way he dealt with them, and their acceptance of it.
And she watched Julian. It was an easy enough task. In fact, she'd even call it an enjoyable task. She liked the way he moved with swift, sure strides. She liked the way his brown eyes lit with pleasure when he laughed, or darkened to jet when annoyed. And she liked the way he'd take off his glasses to ponder a question, or thrust them high on his nose when he wanted to mentally distance himself from something or someone. Or when he'd shove them into his hair right before he kissed her. She liked that best of all.
Liked? No, that was too insipid a word. She loved him. She loved his laughter and his sense of humor, strange though it was. She even loved him for what he was attempting to do, though she didn't agree with his reasons.
What she didn't love were the doubts plaguing her. He'd said he wouldn't make any promises about Willow's End should she lose the bet. And he certainly hadn't made any commitment to her, beyond the conditions of their wager.
Suddenly that wasn't enough. Willow's End wasn't enough. She wanted Julian, not
a house. She wanted to be part of his life, to live with him and love him and have his children.
Unfortunately he hadn't offered her that.
* * *
On the seventh day, Callie realized she would win the bet. It gave her a sense of accomplishment, but it didn't give her the thrill she'd expected. Instead, she realized she'd rather have bargained for something quite different from Willow's End. If she could, she'd have bargained for Julian's love.
The phone rang and she picked it up without hesitation. "Hello? Yes, Mayor, what can I do for you?" She listened for a minute, then replied smoothly, "I appreciate you thinking of me for that committee, but I'm afraid I can't help you. Have you tried Suzanne Samuel? She's always ready to lend a helping hand. Yes, maybe next time. Good talking to you, too."
Callie replaced the receiver and sighed. Well, if nothing else, she'd become quite adept at refusing to help. She just didn't know whether to consider that a positive achievement. The phone rang a second time and she reached for it. Lord help her, but she'd be relieved when the bet ended today. This had become beyond tiresome.
"Hello?"
"Callie? It's me," a muffled voice responded.
"Donna?" Callie frowned. "What's wrong? You sound strange."
The girl made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a sob. "It's Cory. Something's happened."
Alarm shot through her. "What? What is it? Is he hurt?"
"No, he's not hurt. He's in trouble. I'm down at the police station. They... they've arrested him." This time there was no mistaking her tears. "Please, will you come?"
"Yes, of course." Callie spoke in a soothing voice. "Try to stay calm. I'm on my way. You're at Southside Station?"
"Yes. Hurry, Callie. I'm frightened."
"I know you are. You did the right thing calling me. I'll be there in five minutes."
Callie hung up the phone and closed her eyes. She didn't question for a minute what she'd do. She'd go and help Cory. She didn't have any choice. Some things were more important than a bet or a house. Cory was more important. She grabbed her purse.
Regrets could come later.
Chapter 9
