Waking Up

by Carpenter, Amanda

  His question was gentle. “Are you in much pain?” After a moment, she gave a reluctantly honest nod, and his hand squeezed tightly on hers before he stood. “Then I’ll go get your pain medication and a glass of water, all right? And after that’s had a chance to take effect, we’ll see about getting you dressed and downstairs.”

  He was quick and he stood frowning down at her as she popped two pills into her dry mouth and then greedily gulped down the entire glass of water. Then he helped her to the bathroom, waited outside until she had finished, then carried her back to her bed. While she watched and directed, he moved around her room to draw out bright shorts and a comfortable top. He opened her lingerie drawer and rummaged for a pair of panties, his head bent, his broad, well-shaped back to her. She was not so preoccupied with her painful ankle that she wasn’t embarrassed by that, a slow, dark flush rising over her neck and face at the sight of his large masculine hand holding a handful of fluffy white nothings.

  When he turned around with a complete outfit in his hands, she was looking down fixedly at the print border of her top sheet, furious at her own lack of mobility and extremely self-conscious with Jason in her room. At first she hadn’t been, for he had seen her looking far worse than she did at the moment. She had felt perfectly normal and acted quite naturally, until she noticed his vital, mature maleness, as though for the first time.

  He walked over and tossed the things down to her. They fell in a flutter all over her covers, and as she refused to look up, he said quietly, “I’ll be just outside the door if you need any help. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  As soon as the door had closed behind him, she pulled the shorts awkwardly over her ankles, cursing at her own clumsiness when she yanked her injured foot painfully. Then she balanced like a stork on one leg to get them drawn over her slim hips. The sleeveless shirt was the easy part, and with her hair even more wildly tousled, she called out, “I’m done!”

  The doorknob turned and he entered again, took one look at her, and went to her dresser top for her hairbrush. He sat on the edge of her bed again, ordered her to turn around, and set about getting the tangles out of her brown hair. That flustered her even more than his rummaging through her clothes had, and she snapped with a great show of irritability, “My hands weren’t injured, you know!”

  “Oh, shut up,” he said and continued to brush her hair.

  He was quite gentle, and the long, soothing strokes through the soft brown length felt good. She muttered under her breath without much heat, “Stubborn.”

  “And you’re a spoiled brat.”

  She hadn’t thought he’d heard her, and she roused at his response. “I am no such thing!”

  His hand clamped down hard on her upper arm. “Sit still. You are. You always have been, and I’ve spoiled you as much as anyone else has.”

  “Hah,” she retorted bitterly. “I supposed you think you were doing me a big favor when you pulled all those pranks on me.”

  He grinned unseen by her. “You know you loved every bit of it.”

  “For heaven’s sake!”

  He conceded, “Well, at least you loved the attention.”

  “I most certainly did not!” was her indignant exclamation to that.

  “Of course you did. Now, that was your own fault. If you had sat still like I told you, it wouldn’t have hurt.” She put a hand to her stinging scalp and tried to think of a suitable retort.

  “I suppose you’ll be saying next that I enjoyed having that frog you put down my back,” she muttered, her voice losing its bite as he set aside the brush and started to stroke through her silken hair with his fingers.

  His laugh sounded softly behind her. “What a long memory you have! Does that still rankle after all these years? I thought I had apologized for doing that.”

  “Yes, but only because your mother made you.” She turned her head slowly to one side as the fingers of one of his hands found their way underneath her hair to the soft skin at her neck.

  “Did she tell you?” He bent forward and rubbed his face in her hair, which surprised her into trembling.

  “She was making sure that you did what she told you to do.” He pulled the sleek brown length aside and slid close to press his lips against the nape of her neck. His mouth was warm, and the light touch of his breath sent a delightful shiver down her back. She tried to wriggle away. “Don’t, Jason.”

  He laughed again, his presence at her back immediate and palpable. “That’s what you used to say to me all the time. Couldn’t you tell that the pranks were my way of showing that I liked you?”

  “Good grief, with some of the things you pulled?” Her breath came short and fast, for some reason constricted in her throat.

  He stood and then bent over to tuck his arms around her, one firmly around her shoulders while the other slid under her knees. Then with a gentle, easy movement, he straightened and headed out of the door, very careful not to knock her bandaged foot. She slid her arms around his neck, the skin sheathing that strong column warm against hers. As he strode through the upstairs hall, he replied drily, “What did you expect me to do, send flowers? Come on, Robbie, I was just a kid.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you say. I think it was a pretty strange way of showing you liked me,” she grumbled. He went down the stairs lightly, and she could feel the fluidity of his working muscles, his lean gracefulness. At the moment she was too worn out and in too much pain, but later she was to flush darkly at the memory of the sensation.

  In the living room, Jason eased her onto the couch and then knelt on the floor close by, bringing his face down until his straight nose touched hers, gray eyes vivid with laughter and something else. He said softly, “Aren’t you glad I show that I like you in different ways now?”

  That had her blinking rapidly and she grew hot as she tried to pull away, but he held her head still as he tilted his own sideways. Firm, full lips took hers as her eyes fell shut, and he kissed her lightly, teasingly before drawing away. She opened her eyes slowly and stared at him, both looking and feeling bowled over. His own lean, handsome expression lightened until he looked positively delighted. He stood and whipped away, a curiously excited, intense movement, and he called back over his broad shoulder, “You should be starving. I’ll go and make you something to eat, okay?”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, but she was doubtful whether he had heard her or not as he was already striding purposefully down the hall. But she didn’t bother repeating herself. She had the feeling that he wouldn’t listen to her anyway.

  He was soon back again, with a tray balanced carefully in his large, capable hands. The first whiff of spicy, aromatic coffee hit her like a sledgehammer. She had forgotten that she hadn’t eaten supper the night before, and she was suddenly ravenously hungry. She fell on the plate of delicately seasoned scrambled eggs and toast which he had prepared, with an enthusiasm that caused a swift, amused grin to crease across his face. Only when her plate was neatly clean and her cup of coffee drained did she sit back with a sigh of relief. When she glanced up, she found that he had done nothing but sit and watch as she ate, slumped indolently in her father’s favorite armchair.

  “Want any more?” he asked. She tucked her bare foot underneath her, the other leg stuck straight out, and she took in every detail of his appearance. His hands were laced and tucked behind his head, arms flexed back, and his long, muscular legs were stretched out in front of him, the faded denim of his jeans straining against his thighs and lean hips. His shirt was open several buttonholes at his throat, giving golden glimpses of his hair-sprinkled chest. Having seen him shirtless countless times before, she couldn’t think why that brief bare expanse was so tantalizing.

  “Nothing more to eat, thanks,” she replied, though she couldn’t help the look she threw to her empty cup.

  His quick gray gaze caught it, and he straightened attentively in his chair. “How about another cup of coffee?”

  “I don’t know,” she said longingly.

&
nbsp; “Sure you do,” he told her impatiently. “Yes or no, do you want another cup?”

  “Well, maybe if you had a cup…” she started, not looking at him.

  “Yes or no!” he rapped out.

  He startled her so much she cried out, “Yes!”

  He rose to his feet and gave her a glowering look as he growled exasperatedly, “Now, why on earth couldn’t you have said that to begin with?”

  Her eyes fell, and at that she wore such a truly miserable demeanor that Jason’s face quivered between real irritation and gentleness for a moment before giving way to the milder expression. “I don’t want you to wait on me hand and foot,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she pleated the bottom hem of her shirt between her fingers.

  “Robbie,” he said with great patience, “it’s a lousy cup of coffee. I’m not exactly breaking my back.”

  “But this is your vacation,” she said, as if that explained everything. He looked more mystified than ever.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” He was staring at her in puzzlement, and as her brown eyes lifted to meet his, they filled with unexpected tears, going liquidly brilliant, startling both herself and him. His expression reflected his shock, and then, realizing she was taking the whole thing with utter seriousness, he dropped his impatient attitude and sat beside her on the couch.

  She scrubbed angrily at her eyes with the backs of her knuckles and looked so much like the younger, defiant Robbie he’d known that he sighed heavily. “You shouldn’t be wasting your free time playing nursemaid to me!” she snapped with a surprising fierceness. “Thank you very much. I’ve had enough. Go away.”

  “But I don’t want to go away,” he said with an odd little laugh. His hand landed lightly on her back, and he rubbed up and down. “I want to stay and argue with you. Want to play a game of cards?”

  “No.” Her tone was still truculent. The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to feel obligated into staying with her. She’d be glad if he left. At least then there would be some peace and quiet.

  He sighed again at the stubborn, contrary angle of her jaw. “All right. How about draughts?”

  “No.”

  “Scrabble. Chess. Anything in the world.” His voice was growing more and more fed up.

  “No.”

  “I suppose that covers it.” He stood and left the room. At first she couldn’t believe it, but when she whipped her head around to look, he was gone.

  She was all alone. Finally, at last. She hoped he would go and soak up some sun and enjoy himself. It was nice to have the house to herself. She bent her head and cried.

  “My God!” Jason exploded at the sight of her. He was at the open archway that led into the hall, and if she’d had full use of both legs, she would have hit the ceiling. As it was, she jumped violently and whirled to see him striding quickly into the living room, slapping down the two paperbacks he held. They landed on her TV tray, which wobbled on its unsteady legs. He came for her with such purpose gleaming out of his eyes that she shrank away from his touch.

  But he wasn’t about to let her go. He held her by the shoulders and shook her steadfastly until she shouted in outrage. She was quite a sight, her hair streaming like soft rain from her forehead, eyes full to overflowing with both her fury and her tears: He bent forward and eagerly, hotly, took her mouth.

  Surprise had her lips soft and open. He bent her back to the couch and delved in deep with his tongue, tasting the warm wetness of her until she began to recover and she squirmed in protest. He was leisurely in pulling away, nibbling at the fullness of her lower lip so that she shook in response.

  “You have some nerve,” she said in shaky belligerence.

  He looked at her in horrified fascination as though he expected her to start raving at any moment. It was not a flattering look. “What the hell is the matter with you, anyway?” he expostulated.

  Robbie felt her composure going right out of the window, and she covered her face with her hands. The first sob she tried to repress, but it came out as an odd little snort. She was so mortified by that, she didn’t even bother trying with the second, or third, or fourth sob that shuddered out. She made a supreme effort and managed to say almost calmly, “I don’t know.”

  His hand came under her chin, and he forced her to look up at him. For the first time since they had begun the strangely upsetting conversation, there was the beginning of real anger darkening his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

  She would have lied again, but his expression prompted her to second thoughts. “Yes.”

  Overcome at last, he let go of her and just sat there, slowly shaking his head. “I will never understand you, Roberta Fisher. I will never, ever understand you.”

  That stung, and she cried out, “I only want you to go away and leave me alone! Can’t you have a good enough vacation without tormenting me?”

  His gray eyes widened as though she’d struck him, and then rage darkened his expression. She edged instinctively away at the sight. “Me, tormenting you!” he shouted deeply, and literally surged to his feet. “Come on, Robbie, let’s be a little realistic here! What about the way you torment me? But that doesn’t count, does it? I’m expected to handle that without saying a thing, aren’t I?”

  She gaped. Then she shook herself, and she closed her jaw with an audible click. Then she shrieked furiously, “I have never tormented you in my life!”

  He laughed sardonically, and started to pace the room. Then he snarled angrily, “Go ahead, pull the other leg!”

  Sudden, vivid memories came to mind of the way she used to get even with him for his horrid pranks, and she flushed dark red. “I meant in recent years!” she snapped. Then in spite of herself, she ran her gaze down his lithely moving body and thought that she’d never seen such a handsome man.

  Jason whirled to face her from the other end of the room. “Damn it, girl, all you do is torment me!” he bellowed, and she clapped her hands over her ears. He was in front of her in three long steps, and he forcibly dragged her hands down. Then he leaned over her, his eyes two molten, shining pieces of silver. She stared up and found she couldn’t look away. In a very soft, almost gentle voice that was infinitely worse than his shouting, he whispered, “You have been tormenting me every night and every day this entire summer. You have been looking at every inch of my body with desire practically screaming from your big brown eyes. You respond eagerly whenever I kiss you, but when I try to touch or caress any other part of your body, you shy away as though I’ve done something unspeakably vile. It’s coming to the point where I don’t even know whether I’m coming or going anymore, and I ache so badly to make love to you, I can’t sleep at night. Oh yes, cringe away! You want to tell me the truth about yourself and expect me to listen with patience, but you can’t take it when I give you a little truth of my own!”

  Her indrawn breath was a deeply racked, harsh sound. Her face crumpled, and her slim shoulders convulsed uncontrollably. The fury that so changed his face turned to self-condemnation, and he sat down abruptly to pull her against his chest. His head bent wearily over hers, and after a moment, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. Ssh, Rob, don’t. I’m sorry.”

  Strange, when he had hurt her so, strange to find her hands curling urgently into the front of his shirt. Strange that she should feel so full of pain and yet so full of an overflowing comfort that stemmed from an inexhaustible source within him. Bittersweet. She never cried when arguing with anyone else, only Jason. Sometimes even then, she didn’t understand why.

  “It’s my fault,” she said unsteadily, and she felt his head shake in negation. His heartbeat sounded loud against her ear and his arms enfolded her tightly, holding her against his body warmth. “No, it is. I just have…have some things I need to work out.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “I only w-wanted you to stay if you wanted to. I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I had to go and sprain my damned ankle. I did want you to stay.”

  “Robbie
,” he murmured against her temple gently. “The only reason I asked you to go to Cedar Point was so that we could spend the day together. I didn’t care about the stupid amusement park. I care about you.”

  She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. No longer were they filled with that frightening, alienating, hot anger, but instead they held a wry twisted look that was close to amusement, but not quite. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. What she would have said, she hadn’t a clue. What she would have said just then was quite lost, as the front doorbell suddenly, loudly, rang through the intimacy of their quiet, tired, open declarations, shattering the moment forever.

  Chapter Eight

  A singularly frustrated look entered Jason’s eyes, and his softened expression hardened to bleak resignation. Robbie didn’t see, for she was too busy scrubbing frantically at her damp, pink eyes and attempting to straighten her rumpled hair. The doorbell sounded again, and Jason rose in a quick, impatient movement to answer it.

  Marilyn’s voice came from the open doorway, but Robbie couldn’t hear what she said. She heard Jason’s reply clearly, though, as he said, “Oh, she’s sleeping right now. Yes, I’ll tell her you stopped by. She’ll be glad to have her bag back. I suppose her car is still in the restaurant parking lot? No, it won’t be a problem. Her father and I can go and pick it up this evening when he gets home from work. Thank you, Marilyn. It’s nice seeing you again, too. Take care.”

  He shut the door again and walked slowly back into the living room. When she glanced quickly up at him, she saw him turning her bag over and over in his hands while he stared down at it absently. There was a dampened spot on his shirt which had been made by her tears. After a moment, he raised his head and glanced at her, then he placed her bag carefully on a small table nearby. “I thought you’d rather not see anyone right now,” he explained quietly.

  He was quite right, of course. She moistened her dry lips and whispered, “Thanks.”