My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance)

by Pamela Hearon

  Did she want him to come back? That would be tough if not impossible right now.

  He sat up quickly and planted both feet on the ground.

  “I was wondering if that offer to come visit you is still open?”

  Wait! She wanted to come there? “Yes! Yes, of course it’s still open. I’d love to have you!” Man, was he sounding desperate? Having his ex come for a visit should not excite him this much. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice to interested but not giddy. “When were you thinking?”

  “Next week. Tuesday, maybe? Come home Thursday? But if that isn’t a good time for y—”

  “No! It’s a good time. A...a perfect time. But that’s not very long. Can’t you stay through the weekend?”

  “I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

  “You won’t be wearing out your welcome. It’s going to be hard for me to take any days off right now, so we’ll only have two nights together if you don’t stay longer.”

  That was why she was coming, wasn’t it? For the nights together?

  “It’ll be enough, I think.”

  Just a quick Jeff fix, huh? He thought it but he didn’t say it—and he wasn’t sure if he was flattered or frustrated by the prospect of her needing it.

  “Well, okay,” he said. “But maybe you’ll change your mind when you get here.”

  Definitely a snort this time. “Or maybe you will.”

  “Not likely,” he answered.

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see...” Her voice cracked and faded, then came back with an odd quality he couldn’t identify. “I, uh, I have to go now...to, um, try and buy the tickets.”

  “You sure you have to go?” He fought to keep her on the line. “It’s nice talking to you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Her voice firmed up more than it had during the entire conversation. “I’ll email my flight itinerary when I get it, okay?”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” There was a meaningful pause, though he didn’t know what it meant on her end. On his end, it was a chance for his heart to do that cartwheel it had been holding back. “I’m glad I’ll be seeing you again so soon.”

  “We’ll talk again to firm up the plans. See ya.”

  Firm up the plans? He gave a chuckle, noting the heaviness in his groin.

  “My plans are already quite firm, thank you,” he said...but she was already gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I’M SICK AND tired of this, Rosie.”

  Eli’s grip on Rosemary’s arm tightened as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his knees. She turned away to break the grip, but he grabbed her other arm, too, and held her fast. Escape was impossible, which caused her heart to hammer.

  “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” The words fell glibly off her tongue with none of the emotion she felt.

  He glared, the anger and pain in his eyes holding her more firmly now than his fingers. “Friday, you had a headache. Saturday, you were too tired. Sunday, you were too busy and stayed up until you knew I was asleep. Tonight, you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  “You know how I always worry when Maggie travels. Gallivanting off to Vegas all by herself.”

  He dropped his grip from her arms and moved it to her hands. “Maggie’s a grown woman. You got to let her live her own life...and we got to live ours.” He studied her face. “Besides, she’s traveled before, and I don’t recollect it ever hindering our love life. Now, tell me what it is that’s really eating at you? It’s me, isn’t it? The operation?”

  She nodded and eased down to sit on his leg. “I’m terrified, Eli. What if your heart gives out on you right in the middle?”

  “You worried I’ll die before you finish?”

  His chuckle sent a flash of irritation through her, and she jerked her hands free. “Always the jokes. Well, this isn’t a joke.” Her teeth ground together in an effort to keep her chin from quivering. “I’m scared, and I’d rather give up sex than give up you.”

  “We’re not giving up sex, so you best just get that out of your head. The doctor says I’m fine.” He clasped his arms around her and lay back, quickly shifting her to the side, making her immediately wonder if her shoulder had hit his chest and hurt him.

  Before she could ask, his mouth swooped down to capture hers.

  His passionate kiss should’ve left her breathless, but it didn’t...not in that way. Her breath stuttered because she realized her excuses weren’t going to stop him from trying to convince her.

  And maybe that’s what she needed to do. Abandon all thought. Give in to the moment.

  She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing her body to respond. His lips touched her cheek, making a wet path to her ear and below it, down her neck. His hand wandered to the hem of her gown, pulling it up and coaxing her out of it with sweet words and gentle touches. Her body slowly relaxed, and she touched him in return, ridding him of his boxers.

  For long minutes, they explored the familiar territory, communicating only through their caresses. It did feel good. She’d missed this special closeness.

  And then he rolled on top of her.

  Her heart flew into her throat, wrenching her eyes open wide. She would miss this special closeness even more if she lost him forever.

  “No, Eli!”

  “Relax, Rosie.” His eyes searched hers imploringly. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She opened her mouth and tried to breathe through the panic as he entered her slowly, realizing too late that it sounded as though she were panting from passion. Encouraged, he threw himself into the task.

  Her body went rigid with terror, all thoughts of relaxation gone as his thrusts quickened.

  Please, don’t die. Please, don’t die...the mantra in her head kept time to his rhythm.

  Exertion drenched his body with sweat. Oh, Lord, was he getting clammy?

  She had to do something to end this insanity.

  She raised her hips, meeting his thrusts, panting loudly, throwing in moans she hoped sounded normal. “Almost there,” she lied, pulling him closer. “Now. Yes!” She sought to put enough frenzy in her motion to make him believe—anything to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  Please, don’t die. Please, don’t die.

  He let out a groan of surrender as his passion exploded. A few seconds later, he slumped on top of her, breathing heavy. She could feel his heart knocking against his chest wall and hers, as well. She continued her performance, breathing heavily also, as if the quakes were still rumbling through her.

  He rolled off and stared up at the ceiling, not saying anything, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest.

  Fear caught her in its throes again, this time convincing her he’d had a stroke. She laid a hand on his stomach, patted him softly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he whispered, not very convincingly. “I didn’t die.”

  “No, you didn’t die.”

  “And you didn’t come.” He turned his head toward her, his face a mass of emotions. Fear, hurt, anger...they were all there in the grimace of his mouth and the tears in his eyes. “First time in forty years I couldn’t satisfy my wife.”

  “No,” she protested. “It’s not you. I told you, I’m just scared and worried and tired. I’m exhausted. I don’t sleep well. I just...I just don’t know. It’s like I don’t recognize my life anymore.”

  He sat up, and she reached to pull him back, but he eluded her grasp. Standing at the edge of the bed, he pulled his boxers back on. “Sorry I’ve become such a burden.” He stomped off to the bathroom, and she heard the snick of the lock on the door.

  Rosemary threw an arm over her face in a vain attempt to block out the world around her if only for a couple of minutes—the world where she’d somehow become public enemy number one to th
e people she loved. She was sick at heart, tired to the bone...feeling as if old age had crept up silently and laid a sledgehammer to her back.

  Besides being overly temperamental, Eli might be collapsing on the bathroom floor at that very minute, and she was powerless to do anything about it. He’d locked her out...in more ways than one.

  She got up slowly, put her gown back on and went to the living room to read. When sleep did finally come, she pulled the afghan over her and stayed there on the couch for the rest of the night...another first in their forty years together.

  * * *

  “WELL, THAT WAS AWKWARD.” Jeff’s hand swiped his face, and then he turned back to her, eyes tightening with concern as they scanned her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little shaken.”

  A little shaken? Her stomach was rolling enough that Maggie had to focus on a nearby chair to make sure she wasn’t at the epicenter of one of California’s iconic earthquakes.

  She spotted a ginger ale in the refrigerator where Jeff kept soft drinks and water for customers. “I think I’ll take you up on that drink now, though.”

  Without waiting for permission, she jerked open the door and snatched the can. Wasting no time, she flipped the tab and took a swig. What a hell of a time for morning sickness to grip her. It was nearly five in the afternoon there in California, which translated to almost seven at home, and she’d just had an impromptu visit with her former in-laws for the first time in over a decade.

  The cold drink hit her stomach and eased the lurching for the moment. She breathed a silent prayer that the ginger would soothe the nausea...or at least stave it off until they could make the drive from the dealership to Jeff’s place.

  “I had no idea my parents were going to show up.” He still eyed her warily. “I hope you believe that.”

  She took another sip and rewound her thoughts to twenty minutes ago when Milt and Ramona had pushed Chloe’s wheelchair through the door of the dealership only ten minutes after Maggie herself had arrived. Her luggage sat conspicuously just inside the door of Jeff’s office, and it had taken Ramona all of maybe ten seconds to spot it and shoot a questioning look that dissolved into a knowing smirk in Maggie’s direction. “Oh, I believe it. Their shock was evident.”

  Jeff rubbed his hands along her arms and leaned his forehead to hers. “I didn’t tell them you were coming, which was probably a mistake. Not that I was embarrassed by it or anything.” He leaned back, eyes wide with apology. “I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business.”

  Another round of nausea punched her gut, and she realized the tempest had started brewing not with Jeff’s family’s arrival but with Jeff’s amorous greeting when she’d first walked through the door. “You don’t have to apologize.” Another quick sip. “I didn’t tell anyone, either.”

  “Not even Emmy?”

  “Not even Emmy.” She drew a quick cross over her heart. “Not yet, anyway.”

  His hands left her and settled on his hips. “Well, is there anything else you want to see?”

  She looked around. His quick tour of the dealership after she’d arrived had been thorough. And, wow, had it changed. Doubled in size, or maybe more.

  The force of a semi plowed through her insides, convincing her she’d never make it through the drive to Jeff’s without puking—no matter how close it was.

  “Just the restroom,” she said, and made a dash for the private one inside his office rather than the public one down the hall.

  She hoped he hadn’t followed her into his office as she locked the door and threw up the lid of the stool just in time to empty the contents of her stomach as quietly as possible. Relief was instant—as it had been when she was pregnant with Russ.

  After washing her hands, a quick snoop in the cabinet holding Jeff’s private stash afforded her everything she needed. A dab of toothpaste on her finger allowed her to “brush” her teeth, and the mouthwash left her feeling her secret would be secure until they could make the drive to his place.

  And then...

  She couldn’t think about that right now lest it cause the nausea to return.

  Jeff was still standing where she’d left him, checking his phone. When he heard her approach, he looked up, and the smile he gave her was so genuine and tender and sweet she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. That might be the last time in her life she saw that look. How she wished her phone was in her hand, too, so she could snap a picture and keep it forever.

  “Ready?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

  Jeff actually lived in Carlsbad, only a few miles from the dealership, but the heavy traffic made the drive over forty-five minutes.

  Maggie was even more thankful she’d gone ahead and done her thing back at the office. No way could she have made it that long without heaving on the side of the road. As it was, they were able to have a thorough discussion about Chloe, whose changes had been the most disturbing discovery of Maggie’s afternoon. If she’d thought Russ’s pictures of his aunt had prepared her, she’d been horribly wrong.

  But Chloe’s unadulterated delight at seeing her warmed Maggie’s heart.

  “She wouldn’t want you crying about her, Mags.”

  Maggie ran her fingertips beneath both eyes, swiping away the tears that had started without warning. “I’m not crying as much about her as I am about the fact I wasn’t with her through any of this. We were so close. She was the little sister I never had.” She paused, catching his eye as the traffic came to another complete stop. “How do you stand it?”

  “I always remind myself that she’s still the same person. Her thoughts, her feelings, her personality—they’re all still Chloe. The physical changes aren’t robbing her of those. They’re only robbing her of the ability to show those things as quickly as she used to. I can understand what she says because I know her mind. Who she is hasn’t changed.”

  The ache in Maggie’s heart eased some at his words.

  “You ought to see her and Russ together.” Jeff’s grin lifted her spirits even more. “They adore each other. Their wit was cast from the same mold, and neither of them lets the other get away with anything.” He laughed and shook his head, and Maggie’s ache returned as quickly as it had gone.

  Jeff Wells was an extraordinary person. When life knocked him down, he got up and brushed himself off. She’d seen that trait in Russ and had thought it came from her.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Jeff had been through a lot, too.

  And she was about to put him through even more.

  * * *

  “RUSS’S PHOTOS DON’T do this place justice. It’s beautiful.” Maggie shaded her eyes and scanned the fairway below the second-floor pool lanai.

  “I knew you’d like it.” Jeff smiled. He had known instinctively Mags would like his condo because the La Costa area of Carlsbad was exactly the type of place she’d always described them living in if they ever decided to move to California.

  Things might’ve been different if they had.

  But now wasn’t the time to lament the past. The fact that Mags had accepted his offer and was actually here pointed to the possibility that this exes-with-benefits thing might work for the two of them.

  He planned to show her a good time...a really good time. From there? They’d just have to wait and see.

  He rubbed her back and felt her muscles tighten at his touch. She was nervous. Having second thoughts maybe about coming. The wariness in her eyes when he’d kissed her hello upon her arrival had been unmistakable. Oh, she’d responded, but her mouth had been hesitant, almost reluctant.

  Then again, other people had been present, so perhaps it was simply embarrassment at his public display of affection.

  He slid his hand into her hair and turned her head toward him, capturing
her mouth in a soft kiss. Sure enough, her lips trembled beneath his.

  She needed time to unwind.

  He pointed to the pool. “Want to go for a dip? We have a while before dinner.” He’d splurged on a sumptuous French cuisine delivery service, which prepared the best beef bourguignon he’d ever eaten. Its scheduled arrival time was eight o’clock sharp.

  To his surprise, Maggie declined. “I’d really rather just go back to your place. Somewhere we can be alone.”

  Though technically they were alone, the pool lanai was a common area, so anyone could walk up on them at anytime.

  Maybe she wasn’t as reluctant as he’d thought. “Alone it is,” he agreed, and with a hand at the small of her back, he guided her back to his place. “We’ll want red for later, but I have a nice pinot grigio chilled. Ready for a glass?”

  She shook her head as she settled on his couch. “I’ll just have water right now. But you go ahead.”

  He opened his mouth to insist that a drink would relax her—and the way she gripped her hands so tightly in her lap said she needed to unwind—but he decided not to push the issue. “I have sparkling water or flat.” He held up both bottles from the bar.

  “Sparkling would be great.”

  He prepared the drinks and came back to sit beside her, not right next to her but within a comfortable arm’s reach. She thanked him and set her drink on the table after only a small sip, returning her hands to their clasped position and squaring her shoulders as if she were facing a firing squad.

  He realized then that her behavior went beyond nervousness. She was upset, and his mind whirred to figure out what he had done.

  Had she come all the way out here to tell him their time together had been a mistake? His heart hammered at the thought, but his mind rejected the idea as overreaction. Was something wrong with Russ? No, he’d talked to his son that morning. Everything was great.

  Was something wrong with Mags?

  He set his drink on the table, prepared to take her hands and coax her into talking, but something about the somber way her eyes held his, the way her mouth went from a grim straight line to a twitch of a smile and back, sounded an alarm buried deep in his memory. Before he could excavate the source, her words hit his eardrums with stunning force.